


Miss Battle-axe

by Duarte89



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, F/M, Slow Burn, mentions of LARPing, mentions of LoTR, mentions of other stuff, quirks due to long time solitude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 15:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duarte89/pseuds/Duarte89
Summary: battle-axe: a term, generally considered pejorative, for an aggressive, domineering and forceful woman.





	1. The End is the Beginning is the End

**Author's Note:**

> Normally I'm a heavy, HEAVY, Bethyl shipper but I got this idea in my head and I couldn't shake it. 
> 
> So, here you go. Enjoy. 
> 
> Edited 8/9/2018 Chapter One so far. I went over this story while to climb my way out of a writers block on another story, and realized how absolute shitty my writing was. No flow whatsoever, too many details and stuff that didn't even need to be in the story. So, here's the hopefully improved version, 
> 
> Cheers

My name is Augustina Sanchez. 

Yes, that’s my name and trust me my childhood was made a living hell because of it. Things weren’t made any easy either because of my appearance. I was the tallest skinniest kid in elementary, with big thick curls that made my head look like it had its own personal dark cloud of doom. My eyebrows were too thick, I was wide-eyed, the hair on my forearms dark, and let’s not speak about how hairy my legs were. 

Children, for all their angelic looks, are little demons don’t let their appearance fool you! Little Annie Jackson made my life miserable with her perfect blonde hair, and blue eyes. Needless to say that I didn’t have many friends, what friends I did have were outcasts like me or other Mexicans. 

Middle school came with puberty and still little to no friends. 

Middle school was when the boys were starting to notice the girls, and when the girls were starting to care what boys thought of them. I wasn’t excluded; I cared very much what Jordan Smith thought about me. He thought I was a weird Frankenstein, that little shit, and of course Annie Jackson just had to grow up more perfect and snag Jordan. 

While Annie grew prettier and lost her baby fat, I only seemed to grow taller. I was surpassing the majority of the boys more often than not. As my body stretched, My still all elbows and knees, at least my eyes lost their bug-eyed roundness thank god. I didn’t look like I was perpetually surprised anymore. 

By eighth grade I had discovered razors, so the hair on my legs and arm pits were taken care of. I tried to shave my forearms once, but the feeling of nakedness made me feel like a naked mole rat. I wore long sleeves and sweaters for a month waiting for it to grow back.

My dad kept telling me that I was the most beautiful girl in the world, but I mean he’s my dad of course he had to say that…pretty sure it’s a law somewhere. My mom would tell me that I would grow into my height, that I shouldn’t rush things. Easy for her to say, she was gorgeous. She didn’t have to suffer the ninth circle of hell that was the American education system. 

High school, just remembering it gives me the shivers. 

I was still gangly, still flat chested, still had uncontrollable thick curls that would snap scrunchies for sport and was still growing taller. I was five nine by the time I hit sophomore year, and that was when I got my period. 

Blood everywhere, gut tearing pains, acne breakouts and mood swings. Men have it fucking easy all I’m saying.

Getting my period seemed to give my slow ass acting puberty a kick into high gear. My body sprouted up to a final five eleven by senior year, making me still a gangly freak- but at least I was a gangly freak with a nice set of C cups. Because I ended by taller than average, I kept on being hounded the volleyball team until I had to give in and become a team member just to have some peace. 

So there I was, a senior volleyball player with the weird old world name, crazy hair and ridiculous height. Surely my high school life would have improved with my status as a jock? No, it didn't. It could have had been due to the fact that I was probably too interested into anime, manga, and the world of Tolkien to ever be one of the popular kids. But, that world of fantasy was my escape from the snickering, the harsh words and the looks I got just because I was me…just because I was different. 

College was easier. 

No one cared enough to bully you, too worried about finals, lectures and getting part time jobs to survive. I was lucky in that aspect. Because of my less than popular status, and extremely small social circle, I was left with a lot of time to study. Which delighted my parents; they both spoke very little English and what English they did speak was heavily accented. They came to the US in the early seventies, illegally, and with hope in their hearts for a better life. They settled down in New York, the never sleeping state offering odd end jobs for the both of them. I could have used the time that they spent working at odd hours of the day to do crazy teenager shit, but I didn't really have friends and I really wasn't that confident in putting myself out there to try.

We weren’t poor, but we weren’t rich either. My mother held the household finances in an iron grip, calculating to the last cent on what we spent it on. We lived in a two bedroom apartment in Queens, near Corona St where the Latin community was strong. My mom would go off to her job being a maid and my dad would go off to his construction job. I knew that if I wanted to go to college I needed to get a scholarship, which I did thanks to my status of being a giant nerd. 

Fast forward a couple of years and I was living in my own apartment, working from home and helping my parents out so they wouldn’t have to work so hard. I ended becoming a programer, the perfect job that hid me from the judgmental looks of people and fed my bank account a nice hefty sum. The company I was contracted with left me to my own devices as long as I created nasty firewalls to protect their information. I was good at my job, so good that they decided to transfer me to Atlanta, Georgia to their sister company. 

My parents were beyond the moon. I had made it, the American dream. I had made them proud and they were so damn happy that I scooped up the offer with a smile on my face. 

So at twenty-five I was moving into a nice brownstone townhouse a few miles out of Atlanta City, courtesy of my company. I was nervous, living in a new state and not knowing anyone. I sort of just coasted day by day, coding and surfing the net until I discovered the world of LARPing. 

Live Action Role Playing. 

It was majestic. I fell hard for LARPing and made friends as I jumped into the world of fantasy. I especially liked it when the game masters would organize a battle. It’s interesting how much thought and detail goes into making an event. The GM’s have to research the time era, the weapons used, the costumes, the food, everything; and when you go to one there’s these awesome learning slots that teach you about how life in that era would go if one’s interested. It’s really awesome, I was such a noob compared to seasoned LARPers’ but they welcomed new people with open arms. 

I was actually setting up to attend a LARPing event, when the TV started blaring with an emergency broadcast of a new super virus that was affecting major cities. I sat there watching the news and thinking, oh no not another swine-flu panic. My parents had called me not five minutes after to make sure that I went to get the flu-shot. 

I ended up forgetting to go get the shot. 

I didn’t deal with people at all really, some days I didn’t even leave my house and most of the times I didn’t even change out of my pjs. Going out to get the shot wasn’t important compared to waiting with panted breath for my battle-axe that I ordered online to arrive. 

I had hunted through websites until I found it...a double-headed axe, five feet long, and six pounds of pure badassery. The blades were curved and had designs intricately carved into the metal. It had a similar look to Gimli’s axe in Lord of the Rings, right down to the beautiful dark mahogany staff. 

The day my axe arrived, I heard the news saying that the hospitals were being filled to near capacity with infected people. It was at this point that I actually decided to pay attention. New York, Los Angeles, Houston and Miami were getting hit the hardest with the virus and were being quarantined. No flights, in or out, allowed; all ports were sealed off and the highways were being patrolled by the National Guard. 

I had called my parents and asked them if they were okay, they were thank god. They had been told to not report to work until the virus was taken care of. I told them to wear masks and not to leave the house unless it was absolutely necessary. After I had hung up with them, telling them that I loved them and to stay safe, I booted up my computer and spent countless hours hunched over a keyboard, my fingers flying over the keys, as I hacked my way into the CDC system. If it had to with nasty diseases then the CDC was sure to have dirt on it.  

I love and hate being right. 

The virus, codename ‘Wildfire’, had been introduced to the public four months ago. 

Just like any ordinary virus would, it attacked the immune system by causing a fatal fever. The CDC had been working on the virus, trying to find a way to negate it but with no results. Heading into month five and the CDC were still scratching their heads, but now the pressure was on. The virus was mutating at an alarming rate. It was having adverse side effects on the infected, causing heightened aggression and temporary loss of motor skills; along with a disturbingly small footnote about the corpses of the infected being abnormal.  

I sat up, cracking my back as I rubbed my tired bloodshot eyes. This was serious, crazy serious. I didn’t leave the CDC mainframe, checking it for updates as the days worsened…and they did worsen. 

I had a notification system on my computer that would alert me to any new changes inside the CDC system, and after five times of getting up to check after a ping I just ended up sitting in front of my computer. I sat there biting my lips until I drew blood as I read the updates. The infected were dropping dead faster and faster, but what was worse were the reports coming in about the corpses.  They had tagged the dead, giving them identification numbers, and I found one account about a subject that had been dead months ago reanimating. I had had to reread that because that wasn’t possible. This type of shit happened in the movies, in crazy manga, not in the real world. 

Only it did happen.

I didn’t leave my computer chair for days, forgetting about work and only getting up to eat and to use the bathroom. I read as the reports came that they had been testing on the reanimated infected, seeing what made them tick. Experimenting on ways to reverse engineer the infection and create an antibiotic. It was horrible. I watched the videos that they had included and promptly threw up. 

It was a Wednesday I think, when I was in my kitchen eating cereal, my shoulder cushioning the cellphone to my ear when the news broadcasted that New York was lost. The infected, walkers they were being coined, had overrun the boroughs. Bombs were being dropped, destroying the bridges and wiping out half the city in hopes of stopping the spread. In hope of eradicating the walkers that were eating the living.

I never did reach my parents on the phone. It just kept ringing to voicemail. 

I ran to my computer and hooked back into the CDC system. No cure, no headway, but the worst of it was that the CDC tested both infected and noninfected subject and made the discovery that _everyone_ was infected. The virus was airborne in its nature, I read, and exactly how it managed spread throughout the world’s nations was still a mystery. The CDC had no idea who patient zero was, or where the virus originated from. The only thing that they had figured out was that it lay dormant in the majority of the population, until the host died and the virus jump started it again; but the host came back  _ different _ . In one report, it was notated that the French were leagues ahead of us in solving the cure; but they too were being overrun with the infected. It was suggested by one scientist that they seemed like a biological act of terrorism, but t didn't make sense. If this was an act of terror, than whoever had set 'Wildfire' loose fucked themselves also. The virus once it started only gained speed. It attacked the immune system ruthlessly and there was no  _time_ to fight it's effects. 

I could do nothing after reading all those reports and notes, but sit there in my plush computer chair, the news blaring in the background, staring at my computer in fear. 

The world was going to shit, and essentially there was nothing that humanity could do to save itself. 

I slowly looked around my living room and realized that I was all alone in this world. I had no family left, my parents more than likely dead in the bombing of New York, no real friends…just no one. My battle axe, which was mounted proudly on my wall along with two tomahawks that I got at a fest, were somehow mocking me with their gleaming blades…daring me to do something that I didn’t even know if I could do. 

I sat in my townhouse with my doors locked and windows covered, numb with fear. I didn't make any sounds as the noise outside almost vibrated my windows with its horrors. Screams, gunshots and sickening wet noises became the theme song for weeks until I finally snapped out of my fear induced daze. 

I walked past my computer, now useless without power that had gone out weeks ago, and into my room. Posters lined my walls. _Naruto_ , _Bleach_ , _Attack on Titan_ , _Harry Potter_ and more importantly _Highschool of the Dead_. I went straight into my closet and grabbed my traveling pack and tent that was rolled up in a pack. 

Who said that LARPing wasn’t useful?

There were still noises going on outside, which meant that the military was still fighting. That meant safe zones. Staring at my pack, I remembered how the characters always seemed to relax when they got through a military safe zone only to try and escape because an infected managed to get in. 

So safe zones were out- for now. The hospitals were out also. All the infected people had flocked there in hopes for a cure. No way I was going to risk being packed into a building with sick people, and potentially infected walkers.

_ Calm the fuck down and think. Panicking gets you dead _ . 

First I couldn’t stay in my house, I wanted to but it wasn’t secure enough to defend against walkers or the living. If there was anything that I got from all the post-apocalyptic manga and movies, it was that the living were sometimes worse than the dead. The collapse of human society did something to people. With no rules, no police, no structure people went dark side. Mad with power and just evil. It would only be a matter of time before someone came round my house to raid and I wasn’t planning on staying to welcome them. 

So with that flimsy plan of action, I grabbed the best seven pairs of pants that I had, my most beloved shirts, socks, underwear and sports bras and packed them tightly in my pack. Next I went in my bathroom and got all of my female hygiene products, my toothbrush, first-aid kit, a hairbrush and all my scrunchies.  I rolled a durable fleece lined coat into my pack along with two blankets. The pack where my tent was in had a bit of room left, so I grabbed my bed sheet folded it and stuffed it inside with a small pillow. 

Food was next. My pack was halfway full and I knew that I needed to make that space count. I went back to my closet, knowing that I had a water skin around…also a purchase from a fest. 

Thank God for LARPing. 

I went to the kitchen, my traveling pack in hand, and grabbed all the non-perishable food that I had in my house. I grabbed all my water bottles, filling up my water skin and packing away the rest. My traveling pack bulged with all my supplies and I smiled sadly. It seemed like a lot, and I knew that if I was careful it would last me a while but not forever. I would need to go raiding, which meant that I needed to have a weapon.

My eyes went immediately to my darkened living room. 

I entered the room and carefully pulled down my axe, testing the blades and finding them sharp. I pulled down my tomahawks, also a purchase from a fest, and figured that I was set in the weapons department. 

I went quietly back to my room, careful not to make a sound, the walkers hunted by sound according to the CDC notes. 

I put my most comfortable pair of pants, thick socks, and my black t-shirt that had Slytherin house proudly marked in green. I grabbed the boots that I bought for when I went LARPing and laced them up tightly. I grabbed my belt that had a holster for my axe, and buckled it on. 

Going back to the living room, I caught my reflection from the mirror that I had hung onto the wall. I walked slowly towards it, not sure if I even wanted to look at myself but figuring that I should because who knew when would be the last time I would see a mirror.

My brown curls had never lost its wildness. I kept it long, after a rather painful memory of when I had cut it short resulted in pitying looks and withheld laughter. The Georgian heat caused it to gain a life of its own, puffing out and frizzing all the way down towards the middle of my back. My mother had been right all those years ago, I did grow into my height. My five eleven frame was no longer lanky and awkward. My arms and shoulders were muscled with years of volleyball and later on, fantasy battles. I had a pudgy stomach, all those hours in front of the computer did me no favors, but I wasn’t fat…at least that’s what I told myself to feel better as I gorged on pizza and soda. My hips which had been square and boyish when I was younger had finally flared out. They curved out nicely, and widely, into firm thighs which I maintained by playing volleyball with a couple of moms around the neighborhood. I looked back up into my brown eyes and saw deep dark circles surrounding them, dark circles which I long ago got from sleepless nights creating coding for firewalls. My eyebrows, which caused me so much pain when I was younger, were still thick but now it didn’t look so out of place above my eyes which were pinched with anxiety. My cupid bow lips were chapped, and my high cheekbones were devoid of color as I tried not to freak out.

I looked scared shitless, but I also looked ready to go out into the hell that was outside. 

With one last look I walked away from my reflection and scooped up my tent bag. I strapped on my traveling pack, giving my shoulders a roll with the added weight. I put my tent bag on top and tied it in place, my face grimacing but gritting through the extra weight. I grabbed my tomahawks, looping them through my belt hoops, before picking up my axe again. I take a deep breath before I face my front door with barely restrained fear. Faint screams still echoed out and I knew that I needed to be on guard and above all not panic. 

_ Panicking gets you dead _ .

Looking around my house one last time I hurriedly go back to my room. I stride to my dresser and snatch up a picture frame off the counter. I work the back open, throwing the frame on my bed, and pull out the picture of my parents and me. 

I stare at us, our little family of three- smiles wide and eyes happy. The picture had been taken just before I had left New York. My father’s broad six foot three frame didn’t look out place next to my mother and I’s above average heights. We are, no…were, a tall family- tan and dark haired. 

I kissed the picture before folding it and slipping it into my sports bra, there was no way that I was risking losing it. 

Finally done with everything I walked back to the front door with my eyes narrowed in determination, hands tight around the handle of my axe. I unlocked the door, waiting a few breathless beats before I slowly opened the door and walked out into the end of the world.

 

* * *

 

It’s been two and half months since I left my house and I already regret it. 

I haven’t stayed in one place for more than a day, the walkers filling up the streets killing every human in sight and the living trying to steal from me. 

My face throbbed at the memory of my latest scuffle with another survivor. It had been a man, hitting the same store that I was in. I hadn’t heard him. I was keeping my ears open for walkers, stupid me I should have kept alert for the living also. A mistake that I wasn't going to be repeating. 

I was checking the canned foods, knees bent in a deep crouch when a voice whispers to me. 

“Drop the axe and put your hands up nice and easy sweetheart.” 

I freeze, my hands tightening on my axe as I cursed myself. 

“I said drop it fucker.” The man whispered furiously, not daring to raise his voice. 

I slowly put down Gimli and give thanks that I had my back to him, keeping Legolas and Aragon hidden. 

“That’s it, nice and easy bitch.”

I keep my breath steady, not wanting to tip the guy off as to what I was thinking of doing. 

_ Can you do it? Really? _

I had to do it, I was running low on food and this was a goldmine compared to the empty stores that I had hit up earlier this week. I worked hard to secure the place, bodies of dead walkers decorating the floor. No way some asshole was going to take it away from me. 

“You got pretty hair…you must be one fine looking bitch.” The man whispered in a dark seedy voice. 

My stomach drops at hearing that sinister whisper. 

Shit, did  _ 28 Days Later _ not teach me anything about how women fare in this world? 

I slowly look over my shoulder to look at the man threatening me. To keep his attention on my face and not what my hands are doing. 

He was average height, with a sweat stained shirt and dirty pants. His blonde hair was cut short, and he had a nervous twitch on one of his eyes. He licked his lips as he practically eye fucked me and I stared at him while my hand went to grab ahold of my tomahawk.  

“I haven’t had pussy since this shit started. Ima take my time with ya girl, make ya beg for it you little slut.” The man whispered as his eyes darkened. 

_ Are we going to let this happen to us? _

So far I had only killed walkers, I had long ago lost any feeling to killing them- but to kill the living? That was a whole different ball game.  

“Get up bitch, nice and slow.” Was the whispered order. 

_ I’ll give you nice and slow fucker. _

I keep my eyes on him, which was harder than it sounded as my neck was starting to cramp at the angle I had it at, but I wasn’t going to take my eyes off him or his gun. I eventually stand up from my crouch, torso mainly turned away from him, and slowly close my hand around my tomahawk. I slide Aragon out, holding it close to my stomach as I keep the man's eyes locked onto mine. 

“Fucking shit, you’re a fucking giant.” The man says as he tips his head back to look at me.

_ Perfect chance…won’t get another like this. Do it now! _

I pivot quickly, arm rising up before I throw Aragon with all my strength. The tomahawk twirls through the air before sinking itself in the man’s shoulder, his gun clattering to the ground as the man howls in pain. 

_ Dammit! You threw too wide! Shut him up! He’s making too much noise! The walkers will hear! _

I tackle the man to the ground, my teeth bared as I fight him with stifled grunts of rage. The fucker thought that I was just going to spread my legs without a fight and say thank you can I have another? 

Not fucking happening. 

The man lands a hard hit to my face, a grunt of pain passing my lips as I sway from my perch on top of him. I retaliate with a harsh punch of my own, taking a bone deep satisfaction at his grunt of pain, before grabbing Aragon’s handle and yanking it out of his shoulder. Blood spurts out up in the air, hitting my face and staining my shirt as I lifted it in the tomahawk up. 

The man bares his teeth at me, eyes wild with pain and anger. “Fucking bitch, I’ll fucking kill you and fuck your dead corpse.” 

I glare at him before the sound of distant moans of the walkers reach me. I have little time to move before they close in on me. Without pause I swing my tomahawk down in the man’s head. 

Kill shot, in more ways than one. Not only is he dead, but he won't be coming back as a walker. 

I roll off his corpse and wipe off the blood on Aragon on the dead man’s shirt before sliding it back on my belt hoop. Ignoring the hot blood thats staining my face, I take his gun and ammo before going back to get Gimli. Luckily, I had raided the majority of the store’s meager supplies before my run in with Mr. Charming. Gathering up my stuff, I quickly make my way out of the store before the first walker rounds the corner. 

I run until my legs burn and my stomach cramps with pain. I finally stop miles away from the store and promptly throw up in the bushes. 

_ We killed someone. _

It was either me or him. Survival of the fittest. 

_ How do you feel? Feel better? Feel worse? _

I don’t know how I feel actually. I'm numb as I stand there half bent, staring at my discolored vomit and listening to my harsh breaths. 

I can’t hear anything but my shuddering pants.

The screams have gotten less and less, to the point where I would go days without hearing nothing but those ravenous moans and groans. At times it feels like I’m the last living human on earth, but I know it’s not true. This late in the game the majority of humans have grouped together, thinking that there’s still a chance. 

I look around the desolate street I'm in, the pristine houses and white picket fences looking garish and nauseating. It only drives in the fact that Atlanta is lost. The dead run the city now, and what little humans are left, like me, are constantly on the move. 

_ Keep moving, don’t linger here and become walker food.  _

Straightening, I pull out my water skin and take a sip of water and rinse out my mouth. Giving the empty street one last lingering look, I set off with no direction in mind.

 

* * *

This time I’m at the outskirts of the city, days after my run-in, going through a gas station to scavenge what little of the food that they had when I hear the airplanes. 

I still, hand outstretched to grab a bag of potato chips, when the overwhelming sound of their turbines seem to cover everything. The sound which had been normal months ago now seemed strange, otherworldly almost. I flinch hard, not used to hearing such loudness anymore. 

I carefully walk out, making sure to check my surroundings because that noise would have riled up the walkers. Sure enough, the dead were coming out of the woodwork. I haul up Gimli, my axe now a familiar weight in my hands, and keep at the ready if any of them get too near to me. Thankfully though, the walkers look more interested in heading towards the loud noise than in little ol' me. I take the risk in looking up at the planes and wonder if they're going to airlift people out. 

_ We should have gone to the safe zones idiot. _

Couldn’t do shit about it now except try and see where the planes go and walk in that direction. 

I watch as the planes hover over Atlanta, wondering where they're going to land when I see it. 

From the planes, little dark specks were falling.

My face twists in realizing horror, watching as those tiny little specks fell through the air. Those planes weren't airlifting people out, those planes were dropping bombs over Atlanta. 

It wasn’t long after that the very earth shook from the force of the bombs. The barrage causing a giant shockwaves that lifted me off me feet and threw me several feet back. 

I slammed hard onto the store floor, back throbbing with pain as I tried to get my breath back but all I was breathing in was fire and ash. The sound of destruction was never ending, my ears hurting from the relentless blasts. The bombs didn’t stop, it seemed like the military wanted to erase Atlanta from the face of the earth. 

I dragged myself away from the shelves that were dropping to the ground and came to a stop at the back of the store, away from the storefront windows that exploded its glass everywhere. I curled into myself to avoid getting stabbed and waited for the nightmare to be over. 

_ It’ll never be over. _

I didn’t move, the dark clouds of ash shrouding the sun for hours. I didn’t move until the ash clouds finally dissipated and the weak sunlight came shining through the store. I lifted my head and waited, my ears straining to hear the moans and groans. I stayed there until the sun had darkened into late afternoon before finally moving. I checked myself for wounds before making sure that Legolas and Aragon were still strapped on my belt hoops. I looked around and didn’t see Gimli anywhere. 

_ Fuck where is he? _

I shot up to my feet, heart in my throat as I look around frantically. Finally looking to the side, I see Gimli laying harmlessly by a toppled over food shelf. I walk over and lift my axe up from the debris, looking it over to make sure that it wasn’t damaged. There isn't thank goodness. 

Standing there, surrounding by the wrecked store, I wonder what the hell am I going to do next. 

The city's lost, bombed to shit. I don’t know where any other cities are located, never bothering to get to know the state I had moved to since I didn’t venture outside my house a lot. 

_ Fucking shit, now what? _

I holster my axe and go around the store grabbing all the food and water, any over the counter medicine that there was, tampons and pads and because I need to calm down cartons of cigarettes. I grab all the lighters and grill fuel, candy and gum. 

Restocked, I cautiously step out of the store. Looking up and down the ash covered street, I wonder which path to take. I notice that most of the cars are facing to the left, as if they were heading away from all the madness before abandoning their vehicles. Shrugging, because I don't have a better idea, I follow the cars. These people had probably heard about evacuation routes, and had planned to follow them. Looking at a car I think about taking it. 

_ What if the keys aren’t there? You don’t know how to hotwire one. _

Might as well get used to walking then. Sooner or later the gas was going to run out. Hefting my now heavy pack, I turn left and begin walking.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Fucking shit, it’s boring as fuck. _

What I wouldn’t give to have my iPhone with me so that I could listen to music as I walked down the car littered road. I keep to the edge of the tarmac, the woods to my left, in case I need to hide. 

Night falls soon and I stand indecisive by the road. Should I sleep in the woods or should I hole up in a car? I hear faint moans and make my decision by running to an open car that doesn’t look too bloody. I run to a halt and quickly search inside, no walker in sight, and dive in; closing the door quietly before lowering myself in the backseat. I adjust my axe, I don’t want to stab myself in the stomach, and pull out Aragon and Legolas. 

The moans come closer and closer, I keep my breaths steady even as my heart tries to beat itself out of my chest. 

_ Look at them, they’re gathering together. _

I turn my head, inch by heart nerving inch, and see the rotted flesh of the dead. 

The slow shuffling walk a telltale sign that these walkers are old- the fresh ones are crazy fast. Their skin has darkened into a murky grey, the eyes a cloudy white film, nails dark and broken. The stench was indescribable. Even within the car the smell was penetrating the steel frame, but it was slowly becoming a familiar scent that no longer made me gag as quick. It was disgusting, don’t get me wrong, but it was a disgusting that was becoming the normal nowadays. 

I watch as walker after walker passes by the car, my eyes growing heavy but not able to sleep as those terror inducing moans keep my heart rate up. Hours later the last walker finally shuffles by, limping something horrible because of a missing foot and finally silence. I close my eyes, hoping that I can get some sleep before the sun comes out. 

I settle into the seat and fall into deep sleep.

 

* * *

I jolt awake, a sound nearby flipping the on switch in my brain. I slow my breathing, eliminating the sound, and look around for what had made the noise. I squint through the windows and see a lone walker. This walker must have been turned since the very beginning of the outbreak, because its skin is an unnatural black and sagging horribly. Its body is disgustingly thin from starvation, its eyes pure white and teeth yellow from god knows how many people it had eaten.

It was a mystery how it hadn’t been killed. 

I watched it's disturbingly slow trek across the street, terrified by how persistent the mindset of a walker was. It didn’t matter that it had a gaping hole in its stomach, didn’t matter that there wasn’t a human around- all that mattered to it was to keep going. They didn’t sleep, they didn’t get tired, they didn’t feel anything but its ravenous hunger…and it would do anything to eat. 

I waited for the walker to pass me by, a true test of patience since it took five whole damn minutes to finally clear the car. I look both ways before getting out of the car, hooking Legolas and Aragon back on my belt hoops, and lifting Gimli into my hands. I close the distance between us, seeing the walker catch the scent of fresh meat and slowly turn it's rotting head to look at me. The moan it produced sounded pathetic as it looked at me with its exposed jaw and teeth snapping away. 

I stare at the walker with apathy before I heft my axe up and swing it at the walker’s neck. The moan that it had been voicing out on repeat cuts off abruptly, its body dropping to the ground. I look down and see the walker’s mouth still snapping away. 

_ Kill shot to the brain, the only way they go down remember? _

I stare at it, my eyes emotionless as my arms bunch up with tension. I should probably just leave it like that, bodiless. Without anyway to move to get food, living out however long walkers live in hunger and never being able to satisfy it. Those milky eyes somehow find mine and I gaze into them before swinging my axe down to its head, the squelch of the blade sinking through skin, bone and muscle confirming that my axe destroyed its brain. 

_ The only good walker is a dead walker.  _

One less dead fucker out in the world. 

I pull out my axe and use my already filthy shirt to wipe down my weapon. I hadn’t changed since I had left my house, not for lack of wanting but there simply hasn’t been time to take off my clothes and clean myself. It hasn't been safe enough to even attempt to get clean. 

Yawning, I stretch and look down the empty road. My trail of cars has dried up. Having no idea where I even was, I decide that the best course of action was to just keep moving forward. So I follow the empty road until the rising sun settled itself high in the sky, sending down waves of humid heat. I feel rolls of sweat trail down my face, down my neck and pool on my back. I holster my axe so that I could get my water skin out, the last thing I need is to dehydrate. Taking a nice good gulp of water, I tie it back on my pack and slide Gimli back into my hands. 

It's late afternoon when I came upon the gridlock. 

I climb on top of a car and look out in the distance. I can barely see the dark shapeless blob of the walker herd that had passed me hours before. I look around myself and feel at a loss. What was I going to do? Follow the herd?  Too dangerous. I drop my gaze and tighten my grip on my axe, fuck I should have spent my time researching the damn roads while I still had my computer instead of falling into a shock. 

_ Boo hoo, put your big girl panties on and look for fucking clues. _

I slap my face, the flare of pain from my bruised cheek clearing my head from depressing thoughts. I survived this long by myself, I could fucking do this. 

I look around once more, my eyes trailing over the ground when I catch sight of upheaved earth up ahead- as if a truck had broken out of the grid lock and ventured out. I jump down from the car, bending my knees to absorb the impact, and quickly make my way towards what I had seen. I slow down as I reach the edge of the tarmac and stare down at the ground. I'm not a tracker or anything, but it looks like more than one car had pushed its way out of traffic and formed a caravan. The tracks lead up the road and into the woods. 

These people could still alive. 

_ Be around people? The people that we have encountered since the outbreak have all come at us with their fists. Is it worth it? _

Strength in numbers. That was something all zombie movies had in common, there was power in a group. Sure I could lone wolf it, probably even survive, but eventually I’ll slip up and be all alone with no back-up. Not to mention the threat of becoming completely deranged.

Decision made, and really what else was there to lose, I follow the tracks.

The woods are alive with sound. It feels weird and unnerving, I keep looking around as if a walker is going to jump out from behind a tree and eat me. It could totally happen too, but so far the birds aren’t attracting walkers to me. 

I keep a steady pace until nightfall. 

I scout out a spot and take off my pack. My shoulders are tight but I ignore it in favor of pulling out my tent. I waste no time in setting it up, these past months turning me into a pro where it only takes me minutes instead of almost an hour. I set down my blankets and pillow down inside before crawling in, I don’t bother taking off my shoes. I'm not safe and I have to be ready at a moment’s notice to run. I set my pack down to the side and roll my shoulders, trying to loosen them up, before pulling off my weapons and gently laying them down. I take off the holster and zip close the tent. I let my body melt into my nest of blankets and hope to hell that no walkers come about. 

I was asleep in seconds.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later I wake up to the loud chirping of birds and the warmth of the rising sun heating my tent. I open my eyes and stretch slowly, biting my lip to stop the appreciative groan that's climbing its way up my throat. 

Damn I feel good, I haven’t had a good sleep in months. 

Rubbing my eyes I sit up, my hair pooling around my face, and reach for my pack. I pull out a bag of chips and some beef jerky and eat, taking sips of water to wash it all down. Now with my stomach not feeling as if it's eating itself, I buckle my holster on again and begin folding my blankets before I ventured out my tent. I look around and smile at my good luck, no walkers. I take down my tent, packing everything away, my thoughts quiet as I strapped all my stuff to my back again. Legolas and Aragon are safely hooked back on my belt loops, and Gimli's in my hand. With a nod to myself I begin walking into the woods, ears and eyes ready to identify danger.

I walk for hours, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible, before I hear a strange noise. It's near silent, a hissing that was followed by a thud. I frown and try to find out from where it's coming from. I don’t hear anything but birds for a long while until I hear it again. I cock my head right. 

Walkers don’t make that sound. 

Curious I go towards where I had heard the noise, trying to walk around a bush without making too much noise when I hear the moans. 

I stand there frowning, I had been sure that that sound wasn’t a walker. I turn to leave when I hear a rasping voice curse as if it was going out of style. I whirl around as my eyes go impossibly wide. 

Walkers don’t talk, it's a survivor!

_ Won’t be one for long if you just stand there with your mouth open like an idiot. _

I creep through the trees, my hold on Gimli almost painful, trying to see if I can help or if I even want to help. A loud sickening wet noise travels to my ears and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

“How ya like that fucker?” A rasping low drawl cuts through the quiet. 

That was some southern drawl. It was heavier, rougher, than those that I heard in the city. I peek from behind a tree and see a man, back to me,  spit roughly at the walker. 

A rustling of brushes catches both of our attention and three walkers burst through, their hands reaching hungrily at the man. I watch as the man pulls back on a crossbow, his biceps and triceps flexing with strength before letting an arrow fly to one walker for an instant kill shot. He then pulls out a large hunting knife and goes for the next walker, struggling with it before sliding the blade into its head. 

_ He left himself open to the third.  _

I holster Gimli, knowing that I won't make it in time, and have Legolas out of my belt hoop before I even know what I'm doing. I step out fully from the cover of the tree, none too quietly either. The man almost breaks his neck as he turns to look at the source of the sound, but I'm already drawing back my arm to throw my tomahawk. I barely register the loud foul curse thrown at me in a heavy drawl, all my focus on my tomahawk. 

I watch with bated breath, praying that my aim is good, and see how Legolas sinks deeply in the walkers head. The walker drops to the ground, truly dead, and I stare at it with a small smirk. 

I had finally thrown my tomahawk for a successful headshot. I almost break out in a victory dance, before I hear a metal clicking. Freezing, I look up and see the man that I had just saved pointing a deadly looking crossbow at me. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

“Who tha fuck are you?” The man growls out to me. 

I stare at him, my eyebrows slowly lowering themselves back into normal position. I just saved his life and the first thing he asks me is who the fuck am I? He should be thanking me. I didn’t have to save him. I bite my lip as I stare at him, contemplating his ungrateful attitude.  

_ Well…you’re the one that decided to go looking for people. Now that we found one what are we going to do?  _

Maybe I should have let the walker eat him. Maybe this man was the kind of man that I needed to avoid, like the man in the store a while back. Maybe this man would try to kill me and take my supplies, or worse.

_ You’ve killed before, you can do it again. _

But...what if this guy is a part of that caravan from the road? Dammit what do I do?

The man doesn’t let up his glare, his crossbow not wavering an inch. “You deaf or somethin’?”

I focus in on his eyes, his angry narrowed eyes, and can’t help but notice that they’re a beautiful shade of blue. The shade of blue when the sun is highest and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I let my eyes look over his features and find them to be rough, but intriguing. Messy short hair weighed down with sweat, his white skin tanned from being outdoors. Those impressive arms on display due to a dirty sleeveless shirt that had sweat stains underneath his arm pits, ragged pants stained with god knows what led down to black boots where a pile of dead squirrels were gathered. 

He’s a hunter. I couldn’t have found a better survivor even if I tried! 

_ Yeah, but who says that the guy is even open to having us join him?  _

We have to convince him otherwise. 

_ Easier said than done.  _

I look back up and notice that his eyes had lost its glare and were now looking at me in confusion. His crossbow was no longer pointed at me, but at the ground. 

“Can ya even talk?” He asks as he stares at me, his drawl slow and warm. 

I nod and watch him, watch me before he goes back to glaring at me. I cock my head in question. What is he waiting for?

_ You’re standing there like a creeper just staring at him. He’s waiting for you to talk back to him loser. _

Oh. 

I feel my face burn with embarrassment. 

I haven’t spoken in so long, almost three months now, that it seems unnatural strange to make noise. I open my mouth and begin to tell him hello, or at least that was what I intended but all that came out was a grating sound similar to an animal dying. I close my mouth with a loud snap, as my hand flies to my throat in shock. If I thought my face was on fire before, then it's practically melting off with embarrassment now. Even at the end of the world I was still a weirdo. 

_ Pull yourself together woman. _

The man stares at me with wide eyes before shaking his head. “You sure ya talk?”

I nod at him and hold up my palm to signal him to give me a few. I tug at my water skin, seeing the hunter twitch unsurely at his crossbow. I slowly hold up my water skin, I’m not dangerous just need to clear my throat. I take a long sip and clear my throat, okay let’s try this again. 

“Hello.” I say coarsely as if I had led all of my twenty-five years smoking. 

“She speaks.” The hunter answers with a smirk. 

“I haven’t spoken in a while.” I manage to spit out before clearing my throat again, it feels like I got cob webs in there. “The noise brings the walkers.” 

The hunter nods his head in understanding. He looks at me for a moment longer before looking around, his sharp eyes searching the area with caution. “You with a group?” 

“No, just me since…since last year.” I say before taking another sip of water. 

The hunter looks at me, surprised, before eying me up and down. I notice that his eyes lingered on my battle axe and the tomahawk still on my belt hoop, before it trails back to my bruised face. 

“How’d you get that?” He asks. 

I bite my lip as I look down. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I got the feeling that the hunter wasn’t going to take no for an answer.  

_ You’ve already handled yourself once…you can do it again if you need to.  _

I let go of the painful hold I have on my lip and sigh. “A survivor in the city, before the bombs, he wanted to get in my pants and I felt differently.”

The hunter’s sharp eyes land on my blood stained shirt and gives me a searching look. “You killed him.”

It wasn’t a question, he said it as a statement. 

“I killed him.” I confirm quietly but firmly. “He was making too much noise, drawing walkers and I just…I wasn’t going to die there.” I shrug before I clear my aching throat. I look at him and hope that that’s the end of it. This little chit chat was already too much noise, more than I was used to.

_ You’re going to have to grit through it; I wasn’t the one who was all gung-ho about people. _

It’s going to get harder surviving now, you know that. 

_ Whatever. _

The hunter stares at me for what seemed like hours, those startling blue eyes going over inch of me. “You saved my life.”

I nod at him, glancing away quickly to look at Legolas who was still buried in the walkers head. I didn't like that my tomahawk was so far from me.

“You ain’t afraid to do what it takes to survive.” The hunter continues as his head cocks to the side, “You lookin’ for a group?”

I slowly nod, “Figure it’s safer.”

The hunter nods to himself before he turns around to grab his knife and my tomahawk. After he yanks it out, stopping to clean the gore off on the walker’s shirt, he walks towards me. I tense as he gets close, my eyes tracking his movements and begin to breathe a bit easier when he  holds out the tomahawk to me. I reach out and clasp my hand around the handle, withdrawing only to have him hold on tight and step closer. 

“You never told me your name.” He asks lowly.

“Augustina Sanchez,” I say and take note of how he scowls at my name, “what’s yours?”

The hunters scowl grows heavier, his nose scrounging up a bit, before it smooths out into a frown. “Daryl Dixon,” he introduces before letting go and stepping back with a soft snort, “c’mon stay close the camp’s this way.”

I slide Legolas back into my belt hoop and follow after the hunter. It's easy as breathing to pull out Gimli from my holster as I walk.

_ Hopefully this doesn’t bite us in the ass.  _

There was nothing for it. I made my choice and tied my fate with Daryl Dixon, for better or for worse.

  
  



	2. Feels Like We Only Go Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stay by me, let me do the talkin ya hear?” I say, waiting for her to nod before continuing, “I got a brother, Merle, and he….” I trail off, how do I even begin to explain Merle?
> 
> “He like you?” The woman whispers hoarsely, her eyes flicking to mine quickly before looking to the ground.
> 
> I glare at her, anger flaring quickly, “Yeah, you got a problem with that?” I sneer, control gone to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Daryl's POV. Mentions of derogatory titles.
> 
> Title from Tame Impala
> 
> Hope you like it.
> 
> Edited 8/18/2018

The day started out like any other in this shit world. 

Our fearless leader, Shane Walsh, yelled out for a huddle to tell everyone the schedule for the day. I watched from my tent, pitched far away from the rest of the group, how everyone fell in line at what the former cop was saying. Merle scoffed from beside me and gave me a look before making his way to Dale’s RV; it was his turn on watch duty. I stood there looking at how everyone scurried away from my brother’s path, even at the end of the world some things never change. 

Merle said something to Andrea, a feisty blonde, and laughed when she snapped something back…probably shutting him down if her upturned face said anything. Amy, a pretty little thing all blonde hair and blue eyes and rarely out of Andrea’s watchful sight, stood by the RV doors watching Merle with ill-disguised interest. An interest that Merle didn’t return since he liked his women older and meaner. Just then, Dale, the old man with the Hawaiian shirts and owner of said RV, walked out his RV like he was some fucking knight in shining armor; puffing up his old bones and squinting suspiciously at Merle and Andrea.

Old dog ain’t fooling no one,  I seen the way he looked at Andrea and there was nothing fatherly about it. 

I passed my gaze, not really interested to see Dale try and scold Merle, and see T-Dog talking to Jacqui and Jim. Expression relaxed and hands waving and moving about without a care in the goddamn world.  

Useless. Didn’t they know that we’re living in the goddamn apocalypse? 

Movement from the side catches my attention, glancing I see a shaken Carol climb out her tent with her little girl, Sophia. A scowl is already furrowing my brows. The way she’s moving and cowering, I can tell that she got a beating, and I know just who done the beating. Glaring at the tent, where I can make out Ed laying in like a fucking slug. I seen this too many times to even think that I can help them, even if I wanted to- which I don’t. Woman like Carol, beaten down so much that she’s lost her sense of self, would just run back to her husband no matter  how much he makes her bleed. The only person that actually tugs at my conscious is the little girl, cowering behind her mama clutching her doll and making herself as small as possible. 

Dragging my gaze away, I see that Shane is still going on and on about some other shit, Lori at his back standing tall like it was a fucking honor being there. What she needed to do was keep an eye on her little boy instead of trailing after the man. Twice now I’ve caught Carl going through shit that ain’t his. 

Useless all of them, acting like everything will work itself out and go back to normal. Don’t they get it? This is how the world is now. There ain’t no going back to before, and to act otherwise is just foolish. But then again, what could I expect from yuppies. They were quick to ignore me and Merle, quick to pass judgment just because we weren’t as cultured, but they were quick to eat the food that we hunted. 

Shaking my head, I resist spitting my distaste on the ground. 

Instead I zip my tent close, checking to make sure that I have my knife and all my bolts before heading out. Hefting my crossbow over my shoulder I turn and leave the quarry, not staying to hear the end of  what Shane is saying. 

Stepping into the woods I take a deep breath, feeling my muscles start to slowly relax. This here is my peace. No drama, no talking, and more importantly- no one looking at me like I’m trash. 

I set off, not following any particular trail but just walking. I kill a few squirrels that run in my path, taking out the bolts and tying the carcasses on a string on my belt. If it weren’t the large group of incompetent people back at the quarry, and the geeks, I can almost fool myself into thinking that nothing  _ has _ changed.

But there  _ is _ a group of people depending on me to feed them, and there  _ are _ geeks just waiting to chomp on my meat. 

I remember when the day when the world went to shit.

I was up in the mountains, hunting, when Merle came crashing through the woods like a goddamn bull in a china shop. That was what first told me that something was wrong. Merle was just like me, he moved quiet in the woods, for him to be making all kinds of racket something had to be wrong. 

“The fuck you got a phone for if ya don’t answer it boy!” Merle shouted at me as he breathed heavily, sweat running down his face. “Shit’s hit the fan baby brother, we gotta go!” 

“What the fuck Merle?” I said as I followed him, not questioning his order. 

“Fucking dead walking the earth, fucking Mason tried to fucking bite me.” Merle rambled as he led us back to the old hunting shack. 

“Mason? Old man Mason Johnson?” I asked with narrowed eyes. 

“Did I stutter little brother? I’m tellin’ ya, old man tried to get a piece of ol’ Merle! Had to put him down.” Merle said wildly, his eyes darting around in panic. 

“Jesus ya killed him?” I asked as my eyebrows shot up. We finally stepped out of the woods and I saw Merle’s Harley gleaming in the sunlight parked next to my beat-up pick-up.

“I don’t know what he was little brother, but it wasn’t human.” Merle said as he hopped on the bike, turning to give me a rare fear filled look. “Ol’ Mason had his neck ripped to shit and was walking around like it was just a paper cut. Humans don’t do that; don’t know what he was but I wasn’t going to find out.” He explained before turning on his engine, the roar obscenely loud in the quiet of the forest. 

I jumped into my truck and followed Merle as he sped down the trail, turning over what my brother said. It can’t be true, Merle must have been on a high and just  _ thought  _ he saw Ol’ Mason gunnin’ for him. 

We break out from the forest and hit tarmac, turning to head straight towards the town. It wasn’t long before the cluster of houses and buildings came into view, along with the mayhem. My gut was twisting and blood chilling as I watched people fighting each other for food, a horde of people eating a fallen man who was still screaming while gunshots popped off like it was the Fourth of July. 

Merle wasn’t lying, he may or may not be high but the son of a bitch wasn’t lying. The goddamn apocalypse begun while I was up in the woods. 

After that it all become a blur; packing up Merles bike on the truck with our hoard of supplies. Fighting off a couple of blood stained geeks, fighting off a group of people that wanted our shit, it all swirled together before we hauled ass.

At that time, we thought about waiting it out in our old cabin that was hidden deep in the woods. Wait it out until the government and their scientists fix this. 

But then we got stuck in the gridlock on the highway. We must have stayed there for nearly two days, moving maybe a foot in all that time, before the screams started. 

I cursed as I tried to get the truck out, but there was a fucking RV in front of me and a minivan behind me. Ain’t no way we was stepping out on foot, not with those screams heralding death and destruction,  and there was no way that I was leaving my truck out here; it had our supplies and Merles bike. 

Merle shouted at me, pulling me from my thoughts, and pointed to the RV in front. It was forcing its way out of the tarmac, crushing a small red hatchback in the process. Seeing the opportunity I didn’t waste a second on pressing down on the gas, following the RV up the side of the road and turning to the left. 

The screams were becoming faint, and looking in the rearview mirror I saw that we had a goddamn caravan going on. Looking ahead and I just barely managed to spot a black SUV leading the line. We drove for half an hour before a sign welcomed us to a state camping site.

It was a good spot, high in altitude and its own water source. I parked and got out as a muscled man who stank of police called everyone’s attention from his spot next to the SUV. I can feel Merle next to me, body tight with tension same as me, listening as this man tells everyone that if they wanted to stay they had to pool in their supplies. Wasn’t no surprise that more than half of the caravan left. 

Glancing at each other, it didn’t take long for us to come to a decision. I watched as Merle took half of our supplies, hiding the rest, and putting it inside the small hoard in the middle of the circle of mismatched survivors. 

And here I am now, trekking through the woods looking for game. 

A couple of months with these people and they still treated me and Merle like we were lepers. Although I can understand the attitude towards Merle, he's an asshole of the highest caliber. He made no doubt in anyone’s mind what he thought of them. T-Dog and the Chinaman especially, Jacqui got a little leeway just because she was a woman.

Not to say that I was all sunshine and rainbows, but I wasn’t insulting people left and right. Fact is the less I had to spend time with them the better. Kept to myself most of the time, don’t talk to no one really except Merle and that’s how I like it…how things always been. 

Besides what was I going to talk about with them people? We had nothing in common, from different worlds practically.  

Hours passed, my mind going quiet as I kill another squirrel. I decide to stay here, in a cluster of trees and bushes, lounging against a tree to lie in wait for another squirrel before calling it a day.

A big fat one comes scurrying along a branch, my eyes tracking its fast movements. I lift my crossbow, already locked and loaded, and wait for just the right moment before letting the bolt fly. Seeing it pause, scouting out danger, I see my moment. I waste no time, gently pressing down on the trigger and hearing the faint mechanical swish of the bolt slicing through the air. I watch as it hits true and the squirrel drops to the ground, dead.

It’s as I’m walking towards it, to retrieve my bolt and meat, that a faint rustling catches my attention. My gut twists and I curse quietly. 

Here I was having a nice day, and then this rank smelling mother fucker just has to come through the damn trees to ruin it. My hands are moving before I know it, automatically nocking another bolt and pulling the cable back and locking it into place. My bow’s up and ready by the time the geek walks into my field of vision. 

Its fat fucker, waddling as it walks as its teeth snap away without pause. I wait for it to come closer, trigger finger steady and ready. As soon as its close enough I press down and watch as the bolt sinks into its head. 

“How ya like that fucker?” 

I approach it, cautious but pretty confident that it’s dead. It sure is one ugly mother fucker. Its skin got sores on it, clothes stained with blood and dirt. It’s missing an arm and its lower lip, showcasing yellowing teeth. 

I spit at it, feeling that certain thrill that I always get when I go toe to toe with the geeks and win.

A rustling of brushes has ice dripping down my spine. I barely have time to turn when three geeks burst through, their fear inducing groans clogging up the air as their hands reach out hungrily to me.

Fuck. 

Ain’t no time to freeze at the fucking shit show that’s my life right now. All that I can do, is pull up my crossbow, load a bolt and letting it fly into one geek for a headshot. There isn’t time to reload, not with the other geek staggering towards me, so I slide the strap of  the bow on my shoulder and pull out my hunting knife. I kick out my foot to its knee, watching it fall before grabbing it’s shoulder and plunging the blade into its bald rotting head. It falls limp just as I hear the third one coming at me. 

Shit that geek is fast.

I’m about to pull out my knife when my heart damn near drops to my feet in fear. The sound of twigs and leaves crunching comes from behind me. 

**Fuck** . 

I near damn gave myself fucking whiplash trying to see how many of those geeks got the drop on me, but imagine my fucking surprise when a fucking Amazon comes out from behind a tree, calm as you fucking please. 

I can’t believe my eyes, but before I can even blink I see her drawing back a long arm and throw a fucking tomahawk at me.  

“Fuck!” I yell, turning my fear into fury.

I’m going to die, and not by from some geek but by a tomahawk throwing giantess. 

I don’t have time to fucking move when that tomahawk comes flying towards me, the sun glinting off its razor sharp edge as it cuts through the air. My eyes track how the weapons sails right past me, missing me by fucking centimeters, and lodges itself deeply into the geek’s head.

Heart racing and cold sweat drying on the back of my neck, I watch as the geek drops to the ground. My body feels stiff with tension, lungs tight as I slowly turn to look back at the filthy woman who’s just saved my skin. 

She’s not even paying me no mind, too busy looking at the rotten geek with a small smirk. As if putting my goddamn life on the line was a fucking lifetime achievement. I feel hot, skin itching with the urge to hit something, as I watch the woman’s eyes damn near twinkle. 

I grab my crossbow, nock a bolt because I don’t trust no one whose name ain’t Dixon, and aim- that gets the Amazonian’s attention. 

“Who tha fuck are you?” I barely manage to say through clenched teeth. The adrenaline in my veins is flowing like a river, and the fear that coats my skin is drying leaving behind only anger. Anger that is quickly latching onto the silent woman, who doesn’t look even a little bit goddamned worried about having an arrow pointed right at her dirty face. 

The woman just stares at me, surprised. Standing there as if she couldn’t quite understand what’s going on. My glare falters, just a bit, it would be my luck to come across someone who don’t understand a lick of what I was saying. 

“You deaf or somethin’?” I lower my crossbow, so that its pointed to the ground. It doesn’t feel right, somehow, aiming at someone who doesn’t even understand what I’m saying. “Can ya even talk?” I ask slowly, hoping that maybe she could read lips. 

The woman nods and I feel annoyance flare in me. Damn it all, if she can talk then why the hell hasn’t she? 

I give her a look, my anger starting to boil backup with a hint of annoyance, and still the woman says nothing. In fact, it looks like she's off in her own world. I’m about to say something when she opens her mouth, but what comes out ain’t English. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, it sounds like she’s got a toad in her throat. The woman gets an embarrassed look about her just as her hand flies to her throat in surprise. I shake my head in disbelief, “You sure ya talk?”

She nods again and holds up a finger. I see her reach towards her belt, where another tomahawk sits and I tighten my grip on my crossbow. The woman slowly holds up a water skin, giving me a look as if I’m the skittish animal that needs calming.

“Hello.” She finally says, coarsely, after taking a gulp of water. 

“She speaks.” I can’t help but say with a smirk. 

“I haven’t spoken in a while,” clearing her throat again,  sounding like rocks, “the noise brings the walkers.” She explains. 

I nod at the sound reasoning before looking around, “You with a group?” No way a woman like her would be out here all alone. I scope out the nearby trees, eyes locked on the forest floor for any type of tracks. 

“No, just me since…since last year.” She tells me before taking another sip of water. 

I pause at that, she’s been alone since this shit started? I turn to look at her, I mean really look at her, and wonder how the hell she’s alive. 

She’s tall for a woman, topping me with about an inch, and damn if she ain’t taller than everyone back at camp. Her hair’s dark and wild, looking like it hasn’t seen a brush in years, all tangled and frizzed. Her arms are long and muscled, dirty from living out in hell- but then I reckon that every inch of this woman is covered in dirt and god knows what. The shirt she’s wearing is black, but not even that can hide the dark stains that look like old blood. She’s got mile long legs, strong legs, encased in pants that make my pants look brand new. The boots are black and look sturdy enough for her rough living, but what really catches my eye is the deadly looking axe holstered at her hip. That weapon overshadows that other tomahawk she’s got at her hip. Beyond her odd choice in weaponary, I notice she’s got on a heavy looking pack strapped on her back, impressed despite myself. 

Alone or not, this woman looks like she knows what she’s about.

I move my eyes away from her bulging pack and back to her face, taking in her features, and can’t help but notice that even if she’s covered with dirt- there’s something about her. Strength like the kind I ain’t ever seen before, a will to survive that jolts awareness to the deepest parts of my brain. Here’s a woman that will do whatever it takes to keep on living. Those eyes of hers, framed by thick eyebrows brown and doe-eyed, are intent and dark; staring at me with the sort of calculation that makes me wonder just who the fuck this woman  _ really  _ is. The woman’s tan skin is made darker by the layer of dirt she’s got on, sharp cheekbones bruised purple that does nothing to settle my wary curiosity, and a split lip.

“How’d you get that?” I ask. It looks about a couple of days old, the scab fresh enough that it wouldn’t take that much to break and bleed again. The woman, I note, gets uncomfortable- eyes lowering to the ground. 

Whatever happened, it wasn’t good going by her reaction...but...I had to know who I was dealing with before even thinking about taking her back to the camp. 

And it surprises the shit outta me that I’m even  _ thinking  _ about taking her to camp. I don’t know this woman from Adam, but...there’s something about her. Something that makes me wanna keep her close and watch my back. 

Regardless of what the hell has gotten into me, I need to know just how she got beat up- and what she did in return for such a licking. 

“A survivor in the city, before the bombs, he wanted to get in my pants and I felt differently.” She finally answers, slowly looking back up at me, dark eyes a swirling mix of anxiety and anger.

I glance at her shirt, half-knowing that those blood stains weren’t from no geeks. “You killed him.”

“I killed him. He was making too much noise, drawing walkers and I just…I wasn’t going to die there.” She says with quiet defiance, gearing herself up for a fight even as she clears her throat. 

I want to keep asking questions, but she looks about ready to draw that axe of hers, ready to bolt. I swallow back my questions, eying her as I turn over her words and what they mean. I breathe in deeply before letting it go, decision made, “You saved my life.”

She nods, glancing away quickly to look at the tomahawk still buried in the geeks head. 

“You ain’t afraid to do what it takes to survive.” I continue, cocking my head to the side. She’s more valuable, more skilled in surviving in this new world than half the people back at camp. She killed a man for trying to rape her; this woman’s a fighter and damned if I wasn’t impressed; cautious, because she has killed the living, but impressed nonetheless. 

It’s a good idea to have someone this skilled stick around, especially since I don’t know when Merle’s going to go off the deep end when his drugs run out. I’m gonna need someone who ain’t afraid to get shit done. 

Merle thinks he’s sly as a fox, but I knew what he has in his saddlebags. It’s only a matter of time before he does something stupid while on a high. And I sure as shit don’t wanna be caught with my pants down when shit hits the fan. 

I give the woman another searching look, wondering if I’m out of my goddamn mind for even thinking of trusting her. But my guts telling me that this woman here is solid, and if a man can’t trust his gut than what can he trust?  “You lookin’ for a group?” I throw out there, all casual like. 

The woman slowly nods, “Figure it’s safer.”

That’s that.

I turn around to grab my knife and the tomahawk from the fallen geek. I pull out the woman’s tomahawk, clean off the gore on the geek’s shirt, and walk towards her. I hold out the weapon to her, waiting until she's gotten a hold on it before tightening my grip on it. I see those eyes fly up to meet mine. 

“You never told me your name.” I say as my eyes narrow. Damned if I wasn’t going to get my question answered. 

“Augustina Sanchez, what’s yours?” She asks in return. 

Augustina Sanchez. 

I can’t help the instinctive scowl at the name. That’s a beaner’s name if I ever heard one. Only wet backs I’ve come across have all been drunks and lazy bastards. I feel my nose scrounging up a bit, but force it away. Different world we live in now, ain’t matter no more if ya black, brown, yellow or white; geeks still tear into your flesh as soon as they’d look at you. That’s one lesson I learned the hard way during mine and Merle’s trip to town months ago. 

Gritting my teeth to push those useless reactions on what she is away, I let go of the tomahawk.  “Daryl Dixon, c’mon stay close the camp’s this way.” I introduce myself quickly before pointing with my chin behind me. 

I turn to head back to the camp, straining to hear if the woman…Augustina…is following me. She keeps her footsteps quiet, a nice surprise since I’ve only met other hunters like me that can walk like that. 

We’re reaching the edge of the camp when I hear Merle’s loud laughter.

If my reaction, even if I pushed it back because it doesn’t have a place in this world anymore, to the woman being a spic was bad- then Merle was going to have a fucking field day. He’s a racist son of a bitch, and coming from me that means something. Merle could fuck this up for me, being the way he is. I have no doubt that he was going to let the woman know just what he thought about her.

Damn it. 

I stop by a cover of trees, stalling,  and wait for the woman to come stand beside me. Looking to the side I see the woman tighten her grip on her battle axe, her eyes darting to the sides, ready to throw down. It makes me nervous, and it dawns on me that this woman is an inch away from being completely feral. 

Of course she’s got no clue about my sudden realization. She’s looking at me, asking me with her eyes about why we stopped. 

That’s the good thing about not being talkative…I’m fluent in body language.

“Stay by me, let me do the talkin ya hear?” I say, waiting for her to nod before continuing, “I got a brother, Merle, and he….” I trail off, how do I even begin to explain Merle? 

“He like you?” The woman whispers hoarsely, her eyes flicking to mine quickly before looking to the ground. 

I glare at her, anger flaring quickly, “Yeah, you got a problem with that?” I sneer, control gone to shit. 

Sanchez’ arms bunch up as her hold on her axe tightens at hearing the threat in my voice. Her dark eyes measure the distance between us and I sigh. I relax my posture, trying to make her see that I’m not a damn threat to her. 

I chew on the inside of my cheek, “Merle…he’s worse than me. All he gon see is a tall wetback, and he gon remind you of that every time he sees you.” 

Sanchez doesn’t relax her stance until after a few beats, arms losing their tension and grip loosening. Her head tilts to the side curiously, as if she’s having a conversation with someone. “Will it be a problem with you? Me being Mexican.” She asks, eyes narrowed in a defiant glare, as if daring me to say something. 

I glare right back at her, spitting to the side as I think about her question. Would it be a problem with me? “Nah, I don’t care none.” At least I’m trying not to care anymore. It’s got no place here, serves no purpose in surviving this here hell on earth. “You saved my life.” Simple as fucking that. “I know that you’ll be able to pull your weight. Just remember, I’m bringing you in…. **me** .”  I say to her, looking deep in her eyes so I can  _ see  _ her understand what I’m saying. I don’t want her to treat me like the rest of them do, as if I was just some white trash redneck only good for hunting food. 

It matters to me, I don’t know why but it does, that the woman remembers that I’m the one that helped her- not them. 

“Don’t worry I’m sticking to you like glue.” She croaks out before giving me a small quick grin, her face tightening again as she looks around, making sure that there's no danger nearby. 

I nod and step forward, the woman stepping right behind me. Ain’t no going back now. 

The very atmosphere in the camp changes the second we step into the clearing. 

My eyes immediately fly to Merle’s sharp gaze, who’s already sizing up the woman behind me. I see the women herding the children into the tents, away from us. And I can’t even fault them for that reaction. Not only is the woman a stranger, but she looks worse than even a Dixon; with her blood gore stained clothes, hair a tangled mess and a big ass axe in her hands.

She looks like an axe murderer, which when I think about it is just what she is by her own confession.  

Just like I suspected, Shane was coming at us- nostrils flaring and face red. 

“Who’s your girlfriend Dixon?” Shane just about yells at me, getting in my face as if thinking that I won’t drop him on his ass. 

I glare at him, the pig cop, taking note of Merle moving as quiet as a shadow closer to us. I feel more than hear Sanchez shift in place. I see Shane glance at her and her deadly axe. 

“Tell your new guard dog to stand down.” Shane says with a leer, looking at the woman up and down, assuming how things are without knowing shit. 

As if the woman needs to spread her legs to have protection. The woman herself is all the protection she needs, but he don’t know that. At least not yet. 

“Found her in the woods, told her she can join the group.” I tell him, daring Shane and the rest of the useless fuckers to argue with me. Of course I ain’t surprised at the scoff the cop gives, the rest of the group watching on from the sidelines like little pussies. 

“You told her she can be part of the group?” Shane laughs nastily, “Who do you think you are to make such a decision without telling us first? We don’t need another mouth to feed.” 

I’m ready to hurl an insult at him, letting him know just how I feel about that load of shit, before Ed waddles his way to us.  

“We barely got enough food as it is, we don’t need that tall freak coming in taking up space and eating our food.” The fat man says, face a disgusting red and sweat peppering his forehead. 

My hands curl into fists, eyes locked on Ed who’s just now starting to notice how bad of an idea it is to mouth off at me, when Merle slides right next to me. We form a wall between them and Sanchez. 

“Whoa now, what’s this about mouths and food?” Merle chimes in with his wide grin and cold eyes. “Seems to me that the ones bringing in the food here is my brother and me,” Merle says before nodding to the Chinaman, “and the Chink. I don’t see anyone else bringing in any food or supplies, so really who the fuck are you to be causing a fuss to who my brother brings in?” Merle lifts his chin, his eyes like glaciers at he stares both Ed and Shane down. 

Ed backs down real quick at the sight of my brother. 

I know Merle’s gonna me hell after we get this taken care of, but one thing about Dixon’s is that we stand united. Merle won’t let anymore talk shit to me without giving it back- with interest; just how it always was. Not even the fact that I have a stranger with me is gonna slow him down. The fact that Sanchez’ with me and Shane is causing shit is enough for him- for the moment.  

“Seems to me like you need to be like the old lady who fell out of the wagon.” Merle says to Ed as he crosses his arms lightly across his chest before turning to speak to Shane. “If anyone has something to say then it’ll be the Chinaman,” Merle lazily looks away from Shane, who looks ready to strangle Merle, and gives the Chink a mocking grin, “you got a problem with my brother bringing in this lady?” Merle asks before looking back at Sanchez, his head tipping back. “Damn baby brother you brought the goddamn Bigfoot.” Merle exclaims with a laugh, laughing at his own joke not caring that he’s the only one laughing. 

Alarmed, but not wanting to show it, I glance at Sanchez. She’s looking like a spooked animal, her jaw clenched tightly and her knuckles white on her axe. Shit, I need to get this back on track before Sanchez decides to end this argument- permanently.

“I don’t really have a problem…uh…” the boy stutters under the full weight of Shane’s glare, “um…I mean….can she tell us about herself?” He ends up saying, a wince following his lackluster request. 

Shane turns back to me, “Glenn makes a good point. We don’t know squat about your new friend,” the ex-cop sneering the word, “we don’t know if she’s a threat. We got people to protect here, and we can’t be letting in the wrong sort in.” He says as he looks at me from head to toe. 

I get the message loud and clear, anger burning my veins. “She can pull her own weight, she ain’t a threat,” at least not to me, “and I say she stays.” 

“Shane.” Lori calls out from the sidelines, her face pinched in worry. 

Shane gives me a glare before he turns to look at his woman. 

Lori’s pretty, if you like the tall and thin look. Now that I look at her, Lori seems small and delicate compared to Sanchez. Their both tall females, dark hair and dark eyes, but that’s where the similarities stop. Lori, and the rest of the camp, pales in comparison to Sanchez. 

Just another reason why I know my guts right about bringing Sanchez in.

Lori gives Shane a look, and Shane goes to her like a pussy whipped lil’ bitch. The couple stand there whispering furiously, Lori’s hands moving about like a high strung bird while Shane’s jaw juts out like a bulldog. 

“Me and you are going to have a nice long talk little brother.” Merle whispers to me, his posture held lazily still.

I give him a short nod, glancing over to Sanchez. She’s keeping her eyes on Shane, eyes darting over everyone before falling back on the ex-cop. She knows that outta everyone here, Shane’s the biggest threat to her, to us.  

Finally, it seems like Lori wins the argument because she comes strolling to us. She ignores Merle and me, going straight for Sanchez. I’m half tempted to block her path, but I’m curious to what she’s going to say. 

“Hey,” Lori greets softly, as if talking to a scared child, “my name’s Lori Grimes and that’s Shane Walsh. I know he can come off pretty strong, but trust me when I say that he’s a good guy. He was a cop before…before all this.” Lori explains with a small gentle smile. “You look like you’ve been through the ringer, and really having you join us is no problem. I can imagine how hard it must have been for you to be out there, all alone and frightened.” 

I frown, Lori’s talking to Sanchez as if she were like one of the women in the group. Lori so intent on being soft and gentle that she doesn’t notice the small frown on Sanchez’ face. She doesn't notice the flare of annoyance in Sanchez’ brown eyes. 

“But you can relax now. Shane here will make sure that you’re safe.” Lori says with that soft smile, her eyes gentle as she holds out a hand, “I’ll take you to the quarry so that you can wash up, and I’ll help you set up a place to sleep near us.”

I watch, waiting for Sanchez to take Lori’s hand, already bracing myself for the familiar feeling of rejection and disappointment. 

Instead, something else happens to my surprise and relief. 

The woman sizes Lori up and shakes her head, stepping closer to me. 

I keep my face still, not letting my surprise show even though my body feels as if I have electricity surging through my veins. I take in Lori’s confused face and commit it to memory. 

Lori gives me a dark look, blaming me for god knows what, before turning that gentle expression back to Sanchez. “Come on, we won’t hurt you.” 

Still Sanchez shakes her head no. 

Merle lets out a loud cackle, “Seems like the lady’s made her choice.” 

Lori ignores Merle as she turns an accusing look on me. 

I glared right back at her, “We got a problem sunshine?” 

Lori shakes her head before giving the woman one last searching look before turning away from us. 

Not even half a second later, Shane comes right back to us finger pointed at me,“She’s your responsibility Dixon. She becomes a problem then I’ll have to handle it, understand.”

I don’t say a word to him, not bothering to waste my breath on him. 

The Chinaman, Glenn I think he name is, pipes up from his spot a few feet away. “What’s her name?”

I look at Sanchez and get a small nod, her eyes quickly glancing at Merle. “Her names Augustina Sanchez.” I say loudly, watching Merle from the corner of my eye. I see how he stiffens up next to me, even though his face never loses its relaxed expression. 

Glenn nods and goes back to whatever the hell he had been doing and the group disperses quickly after that. Shows over, at least for them. For Sanchez and me, it’s barely getting started as Merle turns to look at me with an ugly glint in his eyes.  

“Sanchez huh?” Merle starts to say, that deceiving loose smile stretching his lips before he sets his gaze on the woman. He takes his time now, eying her up like a piece of meat. “You went and picked up a damn wetback baby brother.”  

I sigh, not in the mood to argue with Merle and almost thank Shane when he barks at Merle to get back on watch duty. Merle gives Sanchez a leer before walking to the RV, climbing atop to sit on the lawn chair that Dale had brought up in the beginning. 

“Well, that’s Merle.” I say lowly just to say something. 

Sanchez doesn’t say anything, just stands by me waiting. 

“C’mon,” I tell her, not wanting to be out in the open anymore, “let’s go see whatcha got in that pack of yours.” I tip my head towards my tent. 

I ignore the looks that the group throw at us as I lead the Amazonian to where I pitched my tent. We sit on a log that I had pulled out from the woods, settling down before the woman starts unbuckling her gear. Dropping the heavy packs on the ground, Sanchez rolls her shoulders for relief and grimaces. I don’t say anything, just wait for her to finish and show me what she’s bringing to the table. 

She undoes the small bunched up pack at the top and clears her throat, “Tent.” 

Good, I won’t need to go and grab a spare one from the group hoard. I watch as she opens her large pack and feel my eyes grow wide.

“I hit up a couple of stores before finding you. Where I got this,” she points to her face, “I grabbed everything in there.” 

She wasn’t kidding. 

I look as she pulls out her food, being careful to hide it between her packs and away from the group’s eyes. Sanchez pulls out candy, gum, goddamn cartons of cigarettes, bags of chips, canned food and water bottles. She’s got a nice little hoard; it would have kept her going for a while yet if she was careful. I peer down in her pack, and see a first aid kit, medicine bottles, woman shit and clothes that look clean. 

Suddenly seeing the clean clothes, and not in any danger of dying or a fight with Shane fucking Walsh,  my nose decides to register her rank smell. “Good god woman, smells like a damn ‘coon died and marinated in geek guts.” I say as I lean back.  

The woman frowns at me, “What?”

“I mean that you smell to high hell.” I say bluntly, covering my nose. 

“Oh. I probably do, I’ve gone nose blind to it so it doesn’t bother me anymore.” Sanchez croaks out as she calmly reorganizes her pack, looking like she ain’t a care in the world after being told she smells. 

“Well it damn well bothers me, good god. Smells like you haven’t bathed in ages.” I can’t help but say. Jesus, how could she have gotten used to it? The woman ducks her head, her hand tightening on her pack. I can feel my eyebrows damn near go into my hairline as the realization hits me. “You mean to tell me that you haven’t washed since the beginning of this?” 

“No time, walkers everywhere…had to keep moving.” She tells me, still facing the ground. 

Well shit. 

The woman’s gotta wash, if only to make the rest of the group less likely to run her out of camp. I don’t particularly want to be the one to take her to the quarry, don’t wanna attract more attention than we’ve already have. Which leaves only person in mind.

I look towards camp and Glenn, who by luck is already staring this way with wide eyes, catches my gaze. I can tell just by looking at him that the kid is itching to come towards us. His eyes bright with curiosity. 

The Asian doesn’t actually bother me, not like the rest of camp. The kid actually gets shit done. He’ll go out to the city, alone, and come back loaded with supplies. He’s a survivor, even if he’s a little nerd.

I raise my brow at him, wondering if he’ll take it as an invitation. He does and I nearly laugh at how he all but trips over his feet to come over. I can feel Sanchez tense at Glenn’s noisy arrival, but I wave her down. Glenn’s about as dangerous as a wet paper bag. 

“Hi I’m Glenn, Glenn Rhee.” He introduces in a hurry, face sweating and pale hand outstretched in greeting. 

Sanchez gives him a wide-eyed look before staring at his hand. She slowly grabs it, dwarfing it in her hold, and shakes it once before snatching her hand away; as if the Chink was going to eat it. 

“How long have you’ve been out there? Have you been alone all this time? Where’d you get that wicked axe? It kinda looks like something out of the Lord of the Rings.” Glenn shots off in rapid fire, leaning into Sanchez with each word til he was almost in her lap. 

Which by Sanchez reaction, her hands balling into fists, was not a good. Better pull the excitable boy away before he’s knocked out on his ass. “Glenn.” 

The Asian turns to me, his dark eyes wide with surprise, “You know my name.”

I scowl, “’Course I know your name idiot listen, who’s heading down to the quarry right now?”

Glenn had the annoying habit in knowing where everybody was at all times, only this time it was working in my favor. “Well, Carol and the rest are going down to do laundry in a bit, why?” 

I roll my eyes at him, before giving him a glare. I can smell one reason why I’m asking. 

Glenn stares at me for a few seconds before he gets the message. “Yeah, um you know Augustina, um you can go down there with them so you can clean up. Get any laundry you have to done. We have soap if you need it.” Glenn says with a friendly smile. 

Augustina stares at Glenn for a long minute before glancing at me. 

“You’re making my toes curl with your stench.” I say to motivate her.

Sanchez rolls her eyes and pulls out those little traveling bathing kits, the ones that you’d find at convenience stores, and a bundle of clean clothes. “You don’t smell like a bed of roses either.” 

I can’t help but scoff at that comeback. I don’t smell like a rotting corpse is all I know.

Sanchez stands, not wasting any time, casting a large shadow over me. Glenn scrambles off the log and looks small next to her. 

“Whoa.” Glenn whispers as he looks up at her. “Come on I’ll show you the way, see Carol is already walking to the quarry. She’s real nice, so don’t worry about them being mean or anything.” Glenn rushes to assure her, leading the neutral faced Amazonian towards the skittish Carol. 

I sat there for a bit longer, watching the woman walk away with Glenn yapping a mile a minute, before pulling out my knife and tugging free my line of squirrels. They weren’t going to gut themselves. 

The woman’s packs were placed neatly by my feet. I still, squirrel in one hand and my knife in the other, staring at it. The implication of it sends a buzzing feeling through me. Right there in those packs is everything that that woman has fought to keep; everything that she’s fought to have to survive. To leave it with me, after meeting each other not even an hour ago is something that I don’t want to fuck it. 

God damn it Daryl Dixon, when the hell did I get so soft?

  
  



	3. The Arrow Killed The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like it, the silence of solitude after the emotional upheaval of suddenly being thrust amongst people after so long of being on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the song, The Heartless Bastards.
> 
> To be honest this isn't my favorite chapter but we gotta get the ball rolling somehow into FEELINGS domain. 
> 
> Hope you like it.

I listen to Glenn talk, not really comfortable with all the noise he’s making but putting up with it because he’s nice. Genuinely nice, not the nice that people try to be with smiles and dull eyes- when Glenn smiles you can see it reflect in his eyes. I mean I don’t care if Carol is _nice_ , or whatever else Glenn’s saying, as long as she doesn’t try to shank me while I’m washing up everything’s fine. Uncomfortable or not I can’t help but glance at the thin man, amazed that he can talk so fast around an ever present smile. Glenn’s quirky, his black hair squished down by a baseball cap. His skin a sharp contrast to mine, looking almost ghostly white to my tan dirty skin.

Daryl’s right I am filthy.

My sensibilities have long ago been discarded, unnecessary to my survival so away they went. Besides, fun fact, the ranker you smelled the less you get noticed by walkers _and_ the living.

We near this Carol woman, her buzz cut giving her an unflattering look, as she clutches her laundry basket. I give her a look, right away noticing the poorly covered up bruise on her shoulder.

“Hey Carol this is Augustina, Augustina this is Carol.” Glenn says as he smiles widely.

I look down at Carol, waiting for her to do something other than stare up at me with poorly hidden fright, before an even smaller figure comes peeking out from behind her. I almost jump back in surprise as my eyebrows shoot up. This living little girl is pretty, short blonde hair and big wide blue eyes. She has a rag doll in a death grip and her slim shoulders hunched over, trying to make herself smaller- as if not wanting to draw attention to herself.

I hadn’t seen a kid in so long, I mean a living kid…I’ve seen a lot of walker children. They’re the only walkers that make me sad; children shouldn’t be turned into those disgusting creatures they deserve better. And that’s what made them dangerous. Walker children made you hesitate made you waste time and then they were on you. I’d seen it before, survivors dodging walkers only to be felled by walker children.

_This group doesn’t inspire confidence. We got a hot-headed cop, a fat slug, a racist redneck and his brother._

That brother brought us in, without Daryl we would still be out there alone.

_Fine, but what about his brother…?_

Merle Dixon is dangerous. He speaks with an irresistible southern charm, but no doubt would sooner drop anyone like a sack of shit to look out for himself. He’s more verbose than Daryl and has more presence. Daryl tended to seem smaller when standing next to his brother, even when they were the same height.

_Looks like Merle’s the one making the decisions in that duo…_

Doesn’t matter, we threw down our money on Daryl and we’ll see it through. So far the hunter’s been ok, just gotta take it day by day.

_If it doesn’t work out?_

If it comes to that then I’ll just set off of my own.

_Look who’s grown some balls._

I tune back in to what Glenn’s saying, something about some food that he found when he went on a run when I notice the little girl’s still staring at me. I barely give her a look, still kinda weirded out at the sight of a kid and half-expecting her to lunge at me with bared teeth, before noticing that more women were coming out of the woodwork. Two blondes are standing together, staring unabashedly at me, a black woman and Lori Grimes rounding up the group. A small blue eyed boy tries to join us but Lori sends him back to the dark haired man, Shane Walsh, who’s looking at me with hard eyes.

_Not a very welcoming atmosphere._

I knew coming in that I wasn’t going to be greeted with open arms, but there was something about Shane that had my nerves on end. It was like he was lying in wait, waiting to pounce on me the moment I stepped wrong. I get it, he’s got a group to look after, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“Hey,” Glenn calls out as he touches my arm, “the women are about to leave.”

I flinch at his touch, my hand dropping to Gimli before I force myself to stop.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have startled you.” He says with a gentle grin.

“Thank you Glenn.” I manage to say before my throat begins to itch. Glenn gives me a megawatt smile before waving me off to where Carol’s waiting for me, the rest of the women already walking on. I make my way to Carol, looking around the camp site. I lock eyes with cold pale eyes and nearly trip. Merle Dixon is giving me all his attention and I feel like a small little animal before a lion, which was intimidating considering I was taller than the older redneck. I keep my eyes on him, lifting my chin in a show of bravado. Merle smirks before turning those all seeing eyes away and letting me breathe.

Yeah…Merle’s dangerous.

Carol and I walk in silence, her little girl trailing after us like a creepy little shadow, when we come up to the quarry where the rest of the women are gathered. The blondes are posted up as look outs, no weapon in hand, while the black female and Lori were dividing up laundry. I look around for a good spot to wash before I hear Carol clear her throat lightly.

I glance at the woman and see her motioning me to follow her. Seeing why no I follow her down the shore until we’re quite a few feet away from the rest of the women. The little girl continues to stare up at me, as if she can’t quite believe that I’m real. I stare right back at her, my eyebrows scrounging up in confusion.

_You’d think that she’s never seen another woman before._

Maybe she’s never seen someone this tall, or this dirty, before. I must seem like an alien to her. I’m tempted to make a face at her, but I’m seriously worried that I’d give her and her nervous mother a heart attack.

“I could wash your clothes if you want, while you wash up.” Carol offered as her shoulders hunched up and hands wrung together.

I look at her and bite my lip in thought. I don’t want her thinking I can’t do my own laundry regardless of how I look as if I’ve never known soap in my life. I shake my head and give her a smile, appreciating her offer. Looking around once more I slowly take out Legolas and Aragon, placing them on a large boulder along with my clean clothes and toiletries, before pulling out Gimli. I give the wooden shaft one tight squeeze before putting the axe next to my tomahawks. I stand there, weaponless and feel completely naked. I bite down hard on my chapped bottom lip as a wave of panic rushes through me.

_Calm down, they’re right there, they’re going nowhere._

But what if these people want to take them?

_Yeah okay, as if the little brat and her skittish mom are going to be able to even lift them without breaking their arms. The rest are far, by the time they’re half-way here you would be able to stop them. Relax, and get your shit together._

I breathe in deeply, my eyes not stopping in one place for too long before I finally slow my heart rate down to normal. Now that I’m calm enough I sit down on the ground and force myself to undo my boot laces, chucking the boots off and placing them by my weapons. I cringe at the sight of my sweat stained socks, having turned yellow. I pull them off and grin, morbidly fascinated at how my feet look all stark white and wrinkly from all the time being in boots. I stretch out my legs and spend more than I like to admit just wiggling my toes, cracking them to feel a bone deep satisfaction run through my nerves. Now that I had started I feel a big chunk of worry dissolve, not all but enough that I don’t hesitate in taking off my holster belt and lay it next to Gimli. I undo my pants, having to fight to take off the stiff pants and yank them off. My legs are dark with dirt, and my underwear well…the less said the better. I take off my shirt, looking at my farmers tan and snicker.

Ah if only Daryl could see me now.

My sports bra’s black so it doesn’t look dirty but I know it is. I reach in and take out the picture that I had stored in there. It’s wrinkled by the countless times I had pulled it out and stared at it. Unfolding it I look at my parents, reminding myself of better times, and gently refold it before placing it under my battle axe. Scratching my stomach I sit there, relishing the feel of the breeze caressing my newly exposed skin. Looking around I see Carol and her little girl giving me wide-eyed looks, but I ignore them. I reach out and grab my toiletries before standing to my full height, stretching and cracking my back as I go. I step lightly into the water, shivering at its coolness before gritting my teeth at the cold and walk in until the water reaches my waist. I take off my underwear and throw it back to the shore, smiling when it lands with the rest of my dirty clothes.

Standing there in the water, surrounded by trees and women I shrug and decide to stop delaying the inevitable.

Pulling off my sports bra and I turn and temporarily flash Carol and her daughter, feeling just a faint blush on my cheeks as I throw my dirty bra with the rest of my clothes. Dunking myself into the water, feeling my breath catch in my lungs at the coolness, I stay under for a few seconds so that the water can penetrate my hair before standing up and wipe my face one handed my other hand gripping tight on my bag of toiletries. I zip it open and pull out a thick cream colored soap bar and close the bag again. Hooking it around my wrist I begin lathering up the soap with my hands and scrub my body. I rub my dirt caked body hard, crouching to reach my lower half, until my skin aches with pain before submerging myself. Standing up again I shake my hair of excess water before attacking my face with soap. Giving it the same rough treatment I hold my breath as I go under, scrubbing my face clean, and clenching my jaw as I rub the fading bruise. Lifting my face out of the water I take a deep breath and feel my skin zing with cleanliness.

Breathing heavily, I pause just to let my newly cleaned skin breathe. I lazily look around, making sure that the area is still clear of any danger before returning to my task.

Opening my bag I slip in my dwindled soap and pull out my shampoo, before closing it again. I dole out a large dollop of white cream and rub it in my birds’ nest of hair. I push out more shampoo and begin working in the cream until I’m rubbing my scalp. I rub the rest of the tangled mess that’s my hair together to work out the grime and leaned my head to the side to wash it out.

All around me is a small army of soap bubbles and white foam.

I open the bag and pull out a bottle of conditioner, because I need all the help I can get to untangle my hair, and a razor. Holding the razor between my teeth I use almost all of the conditioner on my hair before putting the bottle back in the bag. Working it in I wrap my hair in tight bun a top of my head before grabbing the razor and shave my arm pits- I don’t like the bush of air I was sporting there. I don’t bother with my legs or my pubic area, who would be looking anyway? That hairy situation handled, I clean out the razor and store it away.

I stand there, feeling like a whole new person as the conditioner works its magic. I feel my body grow chilled and dive under the water, hands rubbing my hair to clean out the conditioner. Standing I splash water once more to my face and turn to walk out. I notice that the rest of the women aren’t making it any secret that they’re staring at me.

_Let them look, isn’t like they don’t have the same parts._

I ignore them and make my way to where Carol and her daughter are finishing up their laundry. The little girl looks away at the sight of my nude body, her mother taking in my hard muscles and bruises before looking politely away. I grab my hair and squeeze as much water out as possible. I go to the boulder that has my clothes and fish out a pair of clean underwear, slipping them on and cringing at the feeling of wet fabric. Grabbing a hot pink sports bra I fight with the compression garment before finally pulling it over my breasts. Letting my head lean back I stretch my arms, swallowing down a groan of pleasure at the feel of it. I let my arms hang loose and look around for a rock to sit on so I could wash my clothes on. Finding one I quickly grab my dirty clothes and my bar of soap and sit down to work. I spend a good amount of time on that rock, scrubbing away at my clothes. By the time I’m done, shrugging at the permanent stains, my arms are sore and my body dry. I squeeze out the water and grab the wet bundle.

“Here, you can put them in here.” Carol says as she slowly approaches me with her basket.

I give her a smile but shake my head. Really I feel kinda bad by turning down her help twice, but I don’t know her. What if she wanted to steal my clothes? I don’t know what for but this was the end of the world, anything could happen. I put on my clean clothes, setting my wet ball of clothes aside for a second, and boots feeling a small ball of tension unravel as I hooked my tomahawks through my now clean belt hoops and holster my battle axe. I gently pick up my picture and stuffed in my pocket for the time being before picking up my dripping wet clothes back up. I turn to see Carol waiting for me, her daughter still staring at me creepily, and the rest of the women waiting for us ahead. I give her a nod of thanks and start walking towards her.

“I can hang them with my clothes if you want?” Carol asks me as we step over rocks.

I shake my head I want my clothes near me. It’s like she’s trying too hard to please and it’s starting to annoy me. Being alone for so long probably wasn’t doing me any favors when interacting with these people.

Reaching the camp I look around and see that Merle’s still atop of the RV, his eyes latching on to me and giving me a one over before looking away. I notice an old man with a floppy hat and a colorful Hawaiian shirt standing around with the two blondes, sending fleeting looks at me while they whispered to each other. Glenn’s talking to the small boy near Shane, the cop not really paying attention to them but to the gun he was cleaning.

Shane, feeling my gaze on him, lifts his dark brown eyes to meet my own lighter brown eyes. I see his eyebrows arch in surprise and don’t know how to feel as those dark eyes trail over every inch of my body. His eyes lock back onto mine but I don’t give him the satisfaction in reacting before looking away and catch sight of Lori frowning at me.

_Interesting..._

I don’t stop to stare at her, keeping my gaze traveling throughout the campsite so I can scope out all the players. I see a black man, heavyset with muscle, talking to the black woman from the quarry. They’re huddled close together with another man, white and greasy looking, talking and occasionally sending me quick glances. The fat red faced slug of a man is sitting on a lawn chair in front of a large tent, a revolting look on his face as he catches sight of me and Carol. I give him a glare before glancing to Carol with an unimpressed look as I nod my way out of her company and turn away from them all.

_All in all not an impressive group maybe that’s why the hunter, Daryl, brought us in. Maybe he saw all this and knew that sooner or later he would need someone to have his back._

I glance at Merle, whose piercing gaze was doing a sweep around the camp, and wonder just how much of a loose cannon he is to make Daryl feel that he needed me. Looking away before Merle decides to put his attention on me again, I make my way to where Daryl’s sitting cooking some type of meat over an open fire. I look around to try to find somewhere to hang my wet clothes so that they can dry. Seeing nothing I drop my bundle on the log, putting the bag of toiletries on top, and grab my tent bag. I can feel Daryl looking at me, a different type of piercing look than Merle’s- less threatening. I ignore it as I set up my tent, a little bit away from the two tents that I assume belong to the Dixons brothers. After I set it up I grab my wet clothes and lay them over the curve of the tent, nodding at a job well done before grabbing my hair brush from my bag to begin the daunting task of brushing out my tangles.

I sit down next to the hunter, leaving a few feet of space between the two of us, and slide out my axe and place it on the ground so that I can lift it with no delay-just in case. Grabbing the brush I go to work. Ignoring when the bristles get caught on a stubborn tangle, I drift into a comfortable silence. I don’t know how long I sit there brushing my hair until the brush meets no resistance all I know is that by the end of it my scalp is tender and my arm sore from the constant motion. Looking at the brush I grimace at the amount of hair that came free and tug it out, rolling it into a ball of darkness. Once I have it in my palm I don’t know what to do with it.

_Cast it into the fire! Destroy it!_

I play with my ball of hair, considering it, when Daryl speaks up next to me.

“You best not be thinkin’ of throwing that shit in the fire. I don’t want to be smellin’ burnt hair.” That slow deep southern drawl warns me with such distaste that I can practically feel the hunter’s scorn.

I huff with faint annoyance and just drop it on the ground. I turn to look at him and see him slowly turning the squirrels that he had caught earlier so that they can cook evenly. Now that I was in a group, relatively safe I suppose, I don’t know what to do with myself.

Back when I was alone I was always on the move, always on the look-out for walkers and the living, always on the ready to fight for my life. This business of sitting down in front of a fire and twiddling my thumbs had me on edge. I don’t want to let my guard down, because that’s always how people die.

Chewing on my bottom lip I look at the ground, my anxiety making me feel like there’s this bottomless dark pit inside just waiting to swallow me and drown me under its wave when I’m not looking. Impulsively I look up, sweep the area, trying to catch sight of anything out of the ordinary. I taste blood and tongue the reopened cut on my lip. The sting of it helps me clear my mind a bit but I still have that feeling, the feeling that I’m forgetting something important or that something’s going to happen and any second.

“Christ woman, calm down.” Daryl snaps out to me.

I bite down on my cut, swallowing my blood, as I look at him with a frown. I hum questionably at him, tilting my head in confusion as I arch my brows.

Daryl gives me a look, a look loaded with how unimpressed he is with me at the moment, before those intense blue eyes drop to my lips. He frowns and shakes his head before giving me another look, broadcasting how much of a weirdo he thinks I am.

I let go of my lip but Daryl just keeps on looking at me as if I were an idiot. Frowning I stare back at him wondering what he’s trying to tell me. I don’t know what the hell he wants, then as fast as lightning his hand shoots out towards me. I react instinctively, my fist flying towards his face, which he dodges like a fucking ninja before I feel his hand tighten painfully on my knee. I grimace as his fingers dig into my muscles, my hand clasping around his wrist as hard as I can to try and make him let me go. I glare at him, wondering what the fuck this was about. Daryl doesn’t even make a noise of discomfort as I try my hardest to rip his hand off me. In fact his fingers just dig in more painfully, ripping a grunt of pain from me.

Chest heaving a bit from the adrenaline, I look into his stoic eyes. “Let go.” I croak out finally.

“You always go ‘round throwing punches?” He asks as his face darkens with anger.

I glare right back at him, because what the hell he started it first. “Saw a hand, instinct.”

Daryl glares at me a moment longer, fingers still gripping my knee in an iron hold before he eases off the pressure. “Yer damn leg was annoyin’ me. Bouncing up an down like a damn rabbit.”

I didn’t even notice that I had been doing that. Shrugging a shoulder I look away, letting go of Daryl’s wrist. I flex my fingers and resist the urge to rub my knee after Daryl lets go. I can feel the blood recirculating and feel this incessant need to explain myself to the hunter.

Clearing my throat, the itchiness from being mute for months becoming less as I use my vocal cords more, I say, “Sorry.” I’m not _actually_ sorry, but that’s what people say right? It’s been so long that interactions with society are almost faded memories, but saying sorry almost always makes people relax. Seeing Daryl slowly relax his shoulders, I see that he’s no different. “Not used to just being in one place out in the open.” Now _that_ is the truth. Glancing at the hunter quickly, seeing that he had gone back to his squirrel meat, I look back to the ground. “Feel like something’s going to happen and I’m going to be caught with my pants down. I,” I hesitate and look at Daryl again, catching his gaze, “I don’t want to become…” I trail off hoping he’ll understand.

“Weak.” Daryl said with his ever present glare.

I look away, eyes impulsively sweeping the area, before looking back at Daryl. “Yeah.” It feels nice talking to someone, someone real and not a voice in my head.

_Gee thanks._

Once I had started I couldn’t seem to stop, having an actual living breathing person next to me who wasn’t trying to take my stuff or hurt me was like a tall glass of cool water- and boy was I parched.

“These people, they’re soft. They wouldn’t last out there, too loud and too careless.” I say as I look out to the group. I point with my head, “Carol’s too beaten down to make any decisions for herself, the fat slug too lazy to even protect them, and the little girl is growing up afraid of her own shadow.” I move on to the next bunch of people, taking to this subject faster than a forest fire, “They might make it for a while before going down. Don’t look like they’d do what it takes to survive.” The black woman standing back as the two guys try and fix something for her. I move on to the two blondes with the old man, “The old man doesn’t have a hard bone in his body, and the blondes I think can make it if push came to shove. Shane…” I look at the cop with calculating eyes, “he would survive. There’s something about him, even if he’s too hotheaded. Lori and the kid will live because of him but if he dies they’ll follow after soon enough.” Turning back to the hunter I see Daryl staring out into the crowd with sharp eyes and a scowl.

“You didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout the Chinaman, Merle or me.” He says in the end, still looking out at the group.

I follow his gaze and see Glenn’s fast moving form as he weaves through the group towards a tent by the trees not that far from where I pitched my tent. “He’s fast and from what your brother said earlier he knows how to handle himself. As for you and your brother…” I trail off as I lift my gaze to where Merle’s lounging, “Merle’s dangerous. Anyone with two eyes can see that he’ll survive and you’re the same way, besides being a redneck must be a plus out here in the woods of Georgia.” I say with a small grin and spite.

“Beats being a spic.” Daryl shoots back as he spits to the ground, eyebrows scrunched close together and his lips pursed tightly.

I laugh lowly and watch as Glenn looks over to us with a weird look on his face. I arch my brow in question and see him just give me a grin before ducking into his tent.

Okay…

Glancing at the hunter next to me I see him removing the cooked meat and signal someone. The old man with the Hawaiian shirt walks over and picks up a load of squirrels giving Daryl a quiet thank you. I can feel the old man’s eyes on me, but I ignore him. I had talked enough for the day. Quite frankly I was done with the day altogether. I grab Gimli and stand, giving a sweep of the area first, before turning to my tent.

_Sure it’s wise to just leave yourself open like that?_

At this point I don’t care. I’m suddenly exhausted from being around people. It isn’t until I’m zipping my tent closed that I feel as if I can breathe again. I stay there on my knees, head bowed and eyes closed as I settle myself.

_Don’t come apart now after talking all that shit about weakness to the hunter._

I take a deep breath and push myself away from the tent opening and settle myself in my nest of blankets. Pulling out a rag, wetting it, I pull my weapons in front of me and begin cleaning them.

You’re only as good as your weapons, and I intended for mine to be the best.

By the time I’m finished cleaning and sharpening my weapons I notice that my tent has gotten darker, my entire being at ease at having spent the last hours of the day alone. I like it, the silence of solitude after the emotional upheaval of suddenly being thrust amongst people after so long of being on my own. I feel emptied of troubling emotions. I put my weapons to the side, after giving them one last wipe down, near me but far away enough that I wouldn’t cut myself if I roll to the side. My eyes feel heavy, body feeling as if it were hollow and yet wooden. Quickly pulling my hair up into a tight bun, I lay down.

_This must be the stupidest thing you’ve done, falling asleep with a bunch of living outside._

I ignore the voice, just tired of everything and close my eyes. I’m asleep in seconds.

 

* * *

 

A week has gone by with the camp and I find myself feeling like a caged animal on display.

As the days pass by I already know everyone’s name, thanks to the heckling of Merle Dixon. I swear if that redneck wasn’t so damn insulting I actually think that I would like his rude ass. There’s something charismatic about Merle Dixon, something that drew you in whether you wanted to or not.

I keep close to Daryl, going out to the woods with him until he snaps at me that he needs space, endure Merle’s endless bullshit, and listen to Glenn talk about our common interest in anime. It was the shirt that did it. After my much needed bath I had pulled on a simple t-shirt that had Gaara on it and Glenn had nearly burst with his enthusiasm to talk shop. The Korean, Glenn whispered to me how he wasn’t in fact Chinese after Merle had given his hourly slur of the day, had gone and gone about his favorite characters and I mostly kept silent and listened to him with a small grin.

I quickly find out that Lori and Shane are fucking in the woods in one of my walks to stave off my growing paranoia.

I had heard rustling and soft moans- I of course had pulled out Gimli and walked quietly towards the sound. Imagine my embarrassment as I looked from behind my cover, axe high in the air ready to behead, and see Shane’s lily white ass mooning me as he fucked Lori on the soft grass. I froze, looking I’m sure like a giant perv but this was just ridiculous. I’m not a saint nor a virgin, but fucking out in the woods? With your gun out of arm’s reach and Lori weaponless, they were just asking to get eaten. I don’t know how long I stood there like a creeper but eventually Shane’s grunts and groans broke through my morbid fascination and I ran, quietly of course, like the devil was after me.

I had made it back to camp, ignoring Daryl’s all-knowing smug smirk as he sat on the log cleaning his crossbow, and saw Carl playing with Sophia oblivious to the fact that his mom was being plowed by the resident cop. Carol bless her heart took it all in stride, noticing where I had come running out of and gave me a sympathetic grin as she watched over the children.

I was quickly coming to the decision that this group was fucking ridiculous. I couldn’t believe at how ill-prepared they were. The women weaponless, leaving it up to the men to protect them. In this life you had to protect yourself, not rely on someone else to save your life for you. Who was going to save them? _Shane?_ Please he was so into Lori and Carl, that he could care less for the rest of the group.

So right now, I’m doing what I’ve been doing since that first day- stalking around the camp, hands clenched tightly and eyes hard until I feel like I’m going crazy.

Shane must have actually been worried for the safety of the camp because he approaches me slowly, his voice pitched low and almost gentle. “Glenn is going on a run, could use an extra set of eyes out there with him.”

I had been looking around the area in frenzy, trying to see if anything was out of place before turning sharply to glare at the ex-cop. Sizing him up his words penetrate the cloud of paranoia in my mind slowly. I cock my head at him in question, wondering why he was offering me to be a part of the group. Shane had always passed over me when assigning duties at his little huddle sessions in the mornings.

_What’s he playing at?_

“Daryl said you can pull your weight, well now’s the time to see if the hillbilly was right or not.” Shane says as he sizes me up in return. “’Sides you’re scaring the little ones, walking around like a damn axe murder.”

_Hehehe…if only he knew._

So not the time.

I give him a nod and leave him there staring after me with those dark eyes of his. Ever since I saw him in such a vulnerable position with Lori I can’t seem to be as wary of him as I was before.

_That’s stupid._

Maybe, but it’s hard to keep a glare on a man when you’ve seen his pale ass and heard the idiotic noses he makes when having sex.

_Maybe, but still...don’t be stupid._

I go in search for Glenn and see him talking with Dale, the old man that thought he had a chance to get with Andrea. I know it’s the end of the world and all that but the man’s way too old to be thinking about hooking up, at least with someone that much younger than him. Glenn notices me stalking my way towards him and the Korean hurriedly finishes what he’s saying and meets me halfway.

“Hey what’s up?” Glenn asks with a quick grin and bright eyes.

“Going with you.” I say as I look around, giving Dale a hard look as he stares at me as if I was going to eat Glenn.

“Oh.” Glenn says with surprise, “You sure?”

I feel the simmering anger that I have in my lower stomach start to boil over. I have spent seven fucking days here at camp, on my best behavior because apparently I’m too ‘wild’ to associate with. I have spent near four months out on my own in the city, ground zero with more walkers than anyone here has ever seen while fighting other survivors. Am I sure that I want to go on a run? I look down at Glenn, who rarely ever got me mad, and narrow my eyes in anger. “What?”

Glenn swallows nervously and shakes his head, “Nothing, I mean we’ll be leaving in a few.”

I glare at him a while longer before looking away. I need to get away from these people and out killing walkers soon before I punch someone’s throat in a fit of anger. I look around the camp once more and feel like cursing at Daryl’s empty tent. The fucker had left early in the morning during Shane’s huddles. He’s still out, hunting, and Merle unfortunately was still here. The older Dixon was currently talking to Andrea, who was rolling her eyes at what Merle was saying, and ignoring the way Amy was practically undressing him with her eyes.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, those pale blue eyes look up and latch onto mine.

_Speak of the devil…_

…and he shall appear.

Merle says something to the blond, turning to give Amy a wink when Andrea wasn’t looking that sly fuck and strolls over to Glenn and me.

“Taco-head and the Rice-eater, what a pair y’all make,” Merle chuckles in his infuriatingly charming way, “where y’all headed?”

“Going on a supply run in Atlanta.”

_What the hell? Did he just say Atlanta?_

My eyes widen and I look down at Glenn, “Why?”

Glenn gives me a confused look, “Supplies?”

I frown and clear my throat, “I meant why Atlanta?” I ask feeling Merle’s annoyingly perceptive eyes on me.

“Seems like my baby brothers’ wetback giant is afraid to go into the city.” Merle says with a slow grin.

I clench my fists and turn to glare at the redneck. “I’m not afraid fucker.”

“Whoa careful now sweetheart, let’s not start sayin’ thang’s we might regret.” Merle replies calmly, his eyes growing as cold as a tundra.

I bite my tongue and look away, fighting this overwhelming anger rush through me. I need to get out…I need to do something before I start throwing fists and not stop.

_Calm the fuck down, calm down._

“It has a lot of supplies since the majority of the people left. I’ve run it dozens of times, its cool.” Glenn assures me.

I feel like snorting with disbelief. It’s cool?

_They don’t know…they probably go to a section that isn’t as bad as where we were._

I had left fucking Atlanta, it was fucking bombed to shit and now I’m going back?

_But you’re going back with back-up, pull it together! Or are you going to give Merle and Shane the satisfaction of seeing you choke?_

Not fucking happening.

I look at Glenn and see him looking worriedly between Merle and me. “So, let’s go then.”

Glenn nods and runs to get something from his tent, leaving me with Merle. The older man doesn’t say anything, just stares at me. I don’t let it show that it’s making me uncomfortable and almost let out of relieved sigh when Glenn comes back with a baseball bat, and two large sacks. I grab one and pull it on my back, my blades already strapped on me. We make to leave when I notice Merle stepping with us.

“Can’t have the newbie going out with just you Chink,” Merle says with a fake concerned look, “My little brother wouldn’t like it.”

_Can he be any more dramatic?_

I ignore him, my mind tuning him and Glenn out as I continue to walk down the trail that leads to the road. With every step that I take away from the camp I feel my anxiety ease and morph into familiar alertness. I pull out Gimli and turn the hard wooden handle in my hand, letting my mind go blank as my hands grip the axe. I step firmly but silently, a trait that I had learned the hard way in the early days, my eyes checking the sides of the trail. I can hear the light footsteps of Glenn, and of course I don’t hear Merle but I feel him which is a weird creepy sensation.

We keep up a good pace and don’t encounter walkers, which was a good thing but at the same time what the fuck? I need to chop heads off to release some tension. I see the looming cityscape and feel myself harden in a bracing movement- it almost feels like I hadn’t left at all. I can feel my arms tense up, ready to swing at anything living or dead, breathing slow and steady.

_Remember don’t kill Glenn or Merle, they’re friendlies._

We’re walking towards the city entrance now and I can hear them, the hungry moans and groans that make my heart speed up and my mind narrow. I spare Glenn a look, “How long?”

“An hour, but wait you’re splitting up?” Glenn asks with a hitch in his voice.

“Saves time, more supplies.” I don’t tell him that I’ll move faster without him. Something about seeing Glenn’s hurt face makes me feel like I’m kicking a puppy.

Glenn’s about to argue but I just turn and leave him there. I walk quickly, my feet barely touching the ground as I focus on my goal. The thing about being in the city for so long was that I got the hang of noticing which places looked like death traps.

_They’re all death traps._

Correction, which were more death traps than others.

I speed walk my way through streets, Gimli beheading any walker that has the bad fortune of crossing my path. I don’t waste time in truly killing them; it actually makes me feel a dark sense of satisfaction at seeing their mouths snapping away helplessly.

_Whatever happened to ‘the only good walker is a dead walker’?_

I bare my teeth as a duo comes at me, my arms flexing as I knock one down with the head my of axe fluidly twisting Gimli to behead the still standing walker before turning smoothly to bring down on the fallen walkers head.

I am not in the mood to be merciful. Those walkers can stay like that.

The voice stays quiet and I pull Gimli up, the squelch of the walker’s rotten head making me feel a tiny joy. I look up the street and see a tiny mom and pop store. It’s so small that it can be easily overlooked, the perfect place to fins supplies. I walk determinedly to it my senses on high alert when I hear the smallest scuffle behind me. I narrow my eyes and with my next step I pivot my torso, my hips leading into the twist as my arms swing with deadly force at the fucker who thinks I’m easy bait.

“Easy now darlin’ it’s just Ol’ Merle.” Merle says in a tight voice.

I look down. Merle had dodged my swing by dropping to the ground. His body sprawled on the hot pavement, his eyes looking at me wide and a little bit angry. I turn fully to look down at him, some dark part of me wanting to smile at seeing him at my feet, and take his figure in. I never really did take the time to notice Merle, too chicken shit of his eyes but now…now I was in control.

Merle’s shorter than me but he’s built like a tank. His torso broad and firm with hard-earned muscle, short blond hair and pale stubble on his square jaw; his hard face is lined from rough living, giving him an aggressive expression that changed like mercury with his slow grin. His wide hands were flat on the tarmac, legs drawn up as if he was going to crab walk away from me.

“You swing that axe and you’ll find that my baby brother will kill you wetback.” Merle tells me as that charming grin makes its appearance, his pale blues cold and calculating.

I stare at him with no emotion, my hands tightening on my handle before I step back. I don’t have time to waste on Merle Dixon. I turn away from him and continue to the small store. I approach the entrance slowly, my eyes taking in the space, and knock on the door hard. I stand by the entrance, Merle coming up to the opposite side with a hunting knife in hand.

_At least he’s quick on the uptake._

I hear a couple of moans and give Merle a look. The older Dixon gives me a sharp nod and I pull open the door. Merle’s hand shoots out as quickly as a snake, his knife plunging into an old woman’s walker skull, before he steps back to allow the corpse to drop. Another corpse comes out a few seconds later shuffling weakly. I have Gimli put the old walker down and stay still to hear any more noise inside. Hearing nothing I step inside, my eyes quickly adjusting to the dark interior.

_Fucking jackpot!_

The store’s intact, miraculously. I take another minute being still, trying to sense if there’s anything else inside with Merle and me but I don’t feel anything. I holster Gimli and pull the duffle bag off my back. Merle steps next to me, his eyes sweeping the area. “Take that side and meet in the middle.” I whisper.

Merle answers by walking to the left, but not before seizing a bunch of shopping bags by the cashier. I go to the right and quickly dump everything I can in the large duffle bag. The store isn’t that big so it isn’t long before Merle and I meet up in the middle aisle. He has one hand clasping numerous bags which he pushes into the duffle. We work fast pooling the rest of the items of the shelves into the bag and go to the front. Merle grabs the beef jerky while I go for the cigarettes, it hadn’t escaped my notice at how hard Daryl stared at my cartons of cigs, and because I’m feeling a bit mean I grab three boxes of condoms.

_Shane and Lori’s face when we give them these hehehehe._

I grab candy boxes and stuff them forcibly in the bag. The little kids will go nuts with happiness.

“Plannin’ on showing my baby brother a good time spic?” Merle asks lowly, a salacious smile widening his thin lips

I stiffen at the implication and hunch my shoulders in rising anger. How dare he? I know he knows about Shane and Lori, it’s common sense to try and prevent pregnancies in a world filled with human eating monsters- especially if we don’t even have a stronghold to shelter in. Why would he fucking assume that the condoms are for me and Daryl?

_Why not make him think that? Set his redneck racist ass nerves on fire?_

What about Daryl? I don’t think he’ll be too happy making his brother think that we’re fucking, matter of fact I know he won’t for the simple fact that I’m Mexican.

_Don’t be a wet blanket, you know you want toooooo..._

This has BAD IDEA written all over it.

_Come on, do it…do it…do it…._

Against my better judgment I turn to look at Merle, forcing my eyes to go soft and making myself give a saucy grin. “Always wondered if a gringo even knows how to fuck, now’s my chance to find out.”

Seeing Merle’s smile drop is like taking that first sip of Coca-Cola, like eating that last piece of cheesecake, like biting into the cheesiest greasy pizza and following it with a cold beer.

I memorize his shocked face, watching as his eyebrows furrow angrily. I savor the sweet dark taste of victory as I give the redneck a half lidded look and send him a smug smirk. I zip the duffle bag, protecting our hoard, and make to move past him when those lightning fast hands reach out to snatch my arm.

_Looks like he wants dance._

I see the promise of violence in his eyes, wonder if not only did I take it too far but also if he’s going to hit me. I hold my legs strong and wait for an attack, because Merle is the type of person to have the last word.

“You mistakin’ me for my soft little brother, he might put up with yer shit wetback but me,” Merle hisses low and dangerous as he steps into my space, “I ain’t one to tolerate that shit, especially from a dirty spic.”

I slowly let the duffle bag drop to the ground, my smirk turning dark as my eyes harden in anger. “And you’re mistaking me for someone who cares what you think hillbilly.”

Merle bares his teeth in some poor imitation of a smile, “Ya wanna a fuck so badly, I’ll show you right here an’ now.”

I look him over, “What,” slowly taking in his figure and back up to his face, “gave you the idea that I want you? You’re just some washed up redneck. You’re brother on the other hand….” I trail off showing teeth as I grin, “…he’s a different story. He fits my needs just fine, more…workable.” I feel a small flare of guilt and quickly stomp it down. Daryl will just have to understand that this confrontation need to happen, even if he was being used as a weapon; for Merle because he was his little brother and for me because he was the one that brought me in and served as a protection of sorts.

“You fuckin’ cunt.” Merle growls as his hand tightened.

I already had bruises on my knee from Daryl, there was no way I was going to let Merle leave me some too. “I’m a cunt who won’t fuck you.” I snarl back as I look down at him. I clench my fists, ready to fight, “I don’t give two shits what you think of me Merle, but all this spic, wetback and beaner names ends now.”

“Oh really” Merle asked with a deadly look, “and what if it don’t?”

“You don’t know me Merle none of you do, but if you don’t back down right now you’ll know me.” I promise lowly, my veins on fire with rage. My heart’s beating so fast that it hurts but it adds to my adrenaline. I wasn’t kidding when I said that Merle’s dangerous and right now, Merle in my face furious was the most danger I’ve been in thus far.

“I ain’t no pussy, I don’t back down from no one.” Merle says arrogantly before he yanks on my arm and tries to twist it.

Key word tries.

_Always underestimating us because we have a vagina instead of a penis._

I let my body turn into the pull, using my flexibility from all those years of playing volley ball, and send my fist hard into Merle’s side.

_Gotta love those liver punches._

Merle lets go of my arm as he sucks in a pained breath, eyes closing and his balance off. I waste no time, counting each second as an advantage and raise my arm to deliver another punch to his side. It would have worked if Merle fucking Dixon wasn’t a natural bruiser. He shakes off the hit and is ready for me, ready with a fucking maniac smile.

“Ya know darlin’ I ain’t one to hit women, never have but for you I’ll make an exception.” Merle sings as those thick muscled arms move faster than they should have any right to and encircle my waist.

_Holy shit…._

I hope he cuts himself on Gimli, is my stupid thought as Merle lifts me up and fucking body slams me on the floor. I flinch at the sound of Gimli crashing to the floor, Merle quickly taking it out of my holster and throwing it out of my reach.

_Don’t just fucking lay there like an idiot! Fight!_

I feel hot, growls and snarls coming out of my throat, as I send a knee deep into his side. Merle gives out a loud grunt of pain as he topples the side, I move fast straddling his waist and pressing down my weight on him so he can’t move. The fucker wanted to dance, fine I’ll dance.

_Lay the fucking fire on him._

I let my fists fly at him, my muscles bunching up as I pull back my arms before sending them to his face. Merle snarls as he blocks, groaning when he can’t and tries bucking me off. You know the thing about being a long time volley ball player, my legs are strong. I tighten my legs around him, not letting Merle push me off as I send fists to his face.

“Fuck!” Merle manages to wheeze before chuckling. Planting his feet to the floor, causing me to move up his stomach, Merle grins at me before hitting my liver with an impossibly large fist.

_Fucking fuck that hurts._

I lose my breath as Merle’s powerful blow shocks my system. Merle takes that moment to push up with his legs and sends me flying off him. I land on my side and desperately push the pain away as I scramble up and tackle Merle who’s already standing. I lift the man a few inches off the ground before we go down, but Merle’s already got his hand up and flying to my face. Bracing for the punch I grit my teeth and can’t help the loud gasp of surprise from the hit.

Instead of a punch, Merle lets me feel the full weight of his palm and I can’t quite believe that the man had the audacity to slap me, as if I’m an over hysterical woman that needed calming down.

“Enough, damn woman enough.” Merle wheezes as he lies prone beneath me.

I don’t believe him, hell no I don’t. I rise to my knees and have a fist nocked back to punch him before Merle sits up and grabs my hands in a painful vice.

“Dammit Sanchez I said enough.” Merle just about yells at me before he spits some blood on the floor from his split lip, courtesy from my fist, and gives me a stern look.

_Ok…ok….let’s just focus on breathing. Fucking Merle, fucking ox, be glad he didn’t break our ribs with that liver punch._

I’m breathing hard as my adrenaline flows throughout my body, making me feel hyped up. I want to keep fighting, I want to make Merle hurt so he knows he shouldn’t fuck with me, I want to do something with all this restless energy. My heart’s pounding double its normal rate, my arms shaking and my teeth bared harshly. I feel like a wild animal.

_Pay attention!_

I blink hard and notice that Merle’s been talking this whole time.

“Ya ain’t even listenin’ are you? Ya back now?” Merle asks as he cocks his head at me with narrow eyes.

I lock eyes with him, breathing fast, and barely manage to nod.

“Damn…ya need to calm down ‘fore ya pass out. My little brother might be soft but he’s a tetchy son of a bitch and he’ll be mad as a hornet if I come back with ya all strung out.”

_For once Merle is talking sense, calm the fuck down._

Merle began breathing slowly, putting my clenched hands to his chest, and waited for me to breath in sync with him. After a few moments my breaths weren’t so high paced. I give a questioning look to the older Dixon.

“Now we both done said some thangs that we didn’t mean,” Merle lectures, “or maybe we did but that don’t matter.”

I level a glare at him.

“I needed to know that you were on the level…that you weren’t some bitch just usin’ my baby brother like a tick, suckin’ the life out of him.” Merle explained good-naturedly.

_Did he just call us a tick?_

I quirk my eyebrows at that ridiculous statement.

“But ya proved me wrong Sanchez, you’re a survivor and ain’t afraid to get dirty.” At that Merle lets go of my hands and shuffles away from me.

I give him a searching look and push myself to my feet, “Told you.”

Merle chuckles as if he hadn’t just gotten into a fight with me, “Ya did didn’t you, but the thing ‘bout us Dixons is we ain’t a trusting folk. We gotta see it to believe it and even then you’ll be luckily if we do.”

_Well…tell us something we don’t know._

I’m unimpressed by his little speech about the Dixons so I just move past him to find Gimli, and feel a burst of pain from my side. My hand flies to grab my side, pressing down hard to somehow smother the pain, and I grit my teeth against the grunt that’s crawling up my throat. Saying nothing I start to feel my cheek swell up from the bitch slap Merle handed me.

Goddamn it and my bruise had finally faded.

“Hey you deserved that, just feel lucky I didn’t knock you out.” Merle sniffed wincing as he stood. “Damn woman, you pack a hard punch.”

“Good, you deserved it.” I spat out as I stiffly bent to pick up my axe. I look it over and breathe easy to see that Merle’s throw hadn’t damaged it. I glance at the old redneck and see him stretching his body, his face pinched in pain.

_And that my dear is our victory._

Yeah but why the hell did it have to hurt so much?

_No time to whine, we’ve spent too long here gotta meet up with Glenn._

Oh shit Glenn.

I stride forward, teeth digging viciously into my lip to stop any sound, and scoop up the duffle bag. I’m about to pull it on before a large hand tugs it away from me and I almost scream at Merle.

“Now I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let my baby brothers girl carry this.” Merle teases with that easy grin, his eyes not as cold as before.

I scoff, “I’m not his girl.”

“Sure ya ain’t, now come on the Chinaman is probably shittin’ himself waiting on us.” Merle shoots back as he walks away, his face red and his lip bloody.

“He’s Korean Merle, and you better stop that with him.” I say seriously as I follow after him, secretly glad that he was carrying the bag. My fucking left side felt like mush.

“The fuck is this? I can’t call ya a spic, I can’t call him a Chink? What’s next?” Merle asks with an offended air.

“I don’t give a fuck about the others, but Glenn? He’s good people, he’s not dead weight.” I whisper harshly as we walk back to the meeting place. We quickly bypass the severed heads, their mouths snapping away and I don’t pause to put them out of their misery.

Merle stays quiet and soon we reach a sweating nervous looking Glenn who’s hunched over with the weight of his pack.

“What the hell happened to you two?” Glenn asks his dark eyes wide with worry before he sends a suspicious look to Merle who looks worse.

“We got into it with a pair of survivors. Wanted to steal our bag,” I lie with a careless shrug, “we resisted and left them knocked out.”

“Jesus are you oaky?” Glenn rushes to ask as he looks at my rapidly swelling cheek. He reaches out a hand to gently touch my face, ignoring my small wince. His fingertips grazed my skin, sending sparks of pain and comfort through me. I give him a small smile, my eyes warm as I look down at him.

“The hell am I? Chopped liver?” Merle asks with attitude, his face pinched with annoyance.

Glenn laughs awkwardly before looking at the redneck and wincing. Merle’s face was a mess.

_You mean a work of art, we did that._

His lip was still bleeding, but at a slower pace. One of his eyes was starting to swell shut, and his cheek was swelling.

_That blood though…it’ll attract walkers._

“We gotta move, Merle’s blood is sending out a signal to every walker to our location.” I say lowly as I slide out Aragon and cut a bit of Glenn’s baseball shirt. Ignoring Glenn’s squawk I push the small cloth harder than necessary to the redneck, smiling at Merle’s flashing angry eyes as I staunch the blood flow.

“Ok.” Glenn finally says after a long pause before he turns and practically runs away from us.

Merle glares at me and follows Glenn, replacing my hold on the cloth, and leaves me to take the rear.

This day turned out to be better than I thought.

_Yeah because getting in a fight with Merle fucking-ox Dixon is always a good time._

The walk back was spent in silence, my preferred method of communication, and cutting down stray walkers. By the time we hit the crest of the camp I see that Daryl is slowly skinning game before his head shoots up to look at us.

_Fucking Dixon’s, always knowing when someone’s looking at them._

We walk into camp and are stopped by Shane who takes in my swollen face and glares all the fires of hell at Merle. “What the hell happened?”

I’m confused at Shane’s worry. Merle, I notice, glares back at Shane, his eyes cold as ice. Glenn the saint quickly steps between the two, his hand waving in front of him like a wild bird.

“Whoa! Hey calm down.” Glenn says in a hurry.

I look around and see that the whole camp has created a circle around us, eyes wide to what was surely going to be a dramatic showdown. Daryl pushes his way through the crowd, sending a vicious glare at Ed when the man _tries_ to push back but doesn’t when met with the Dixon fury. Daryl takes in my face before his sharp gaze lands on Merle’s face. I look away before he can catch my gaze again.

“The fuck happened out there?” Shane asks again as his dark eyes scour over my face again.

“We separated at the start, to get more supplies.” Glenn explains. “Merle went with Augustina and when I finished I waited for them to come back to the meet-up spot after the one hour limit. They were running late and I was about to go find them when they turned up. They fought with some survivors that had tried to steal their stuff.” Glenn says with a pointed look to bulging bag of supplies that Merle’s holding.

Shane clenches his jaw and stares at both of us. “That right?” He asks me, his eyes searching mine for a lie.

I nod, cool as a cucumber. “I’m not going to let no one steal our supplies. Merle took most of the hits, this” I point to my cheek, “was a lucky shot. I made sure that the guy went down after that.” My knuckles are an angry red, and some of the skin had been rubbed raw making my story believable. “Merle did all the fighting and I killed any walkers-” I manage to say before Shane is suddenly touching my cheek. My voice fails me because what the hell? Seriously what was it about my cheek that needed touching? It’s just swollen. I let him touch me for a few seconds before stepping back, _way_ back, and give him a narrowed look. I don’t appreciate him getting touchy-touchy with me, not at all. It must show in my expression because Shane drops his hand and gives me a sharp acknowledging nod.

“Hand the bags over and we’ll sort through it. You three go get some food and relax.” Shane orders before taking the heavy bag from Glenn with ease, Andrea coming forward with Dale to grab Merle’s. Amy comes shyly up and tells Merle to follow her to the RV so that she could treat his wounds. Andrea’s mouth thins with irritation but what can she say? Merle had just risked his life to bring back supplies, was practically a hero.

_What a hero._

For our sake, Merle will keep being the hero.

I glance at Merle and see that slow southern grin make its appearance at the young girl, who looked younger than she actually was. Amy’s a year younger than me, twenty-four even though she looks about seventeen, and a college student. I found this all out while doing laundry with the women, gossip still enduring the end of the world. I was made aware of a lot of stuff while scrubbing dirty clothing. Feeling my gaze Merle locks eyes with me and gives me a wink before letting Amy steer him to the RV. The rest of the group walks towards Shane and Andrea, looking at our supplies when suddenly I feel a rough hand encircle my wrist and pull me away.

_Here we go._

I don’t resist. I’m tired from the fight, tired from the journey into Atlanta and frankly in pain to try to fight off another Dixon. Daryl bypasses our usual spot at the log, his game covered by a cloth, and heads straight into the woods.

_You know this is how horror movies start out. Walking into the woods, and not knowing that there’s a murderer waiting for you with a machete._

Not helping asshole, just shut up.

We walk for a bit, Daryl I guess wanting to make sure that we aren’t close enough to the camp for anyone to interrupt us.

_Interrupt a murder, Daryl looks like he’s going to kill us._

Seriously shut up.

I don’t have the strength to tense up when Daryl finally whirls around to face me, those intense blue eyes boring holes into me.

“Those idiots might believe that cock and bull story but I sure as hell don’t.” The hunter growls out.

I sigh heavily, good god what is with these Dixons and hidden confrontations? First Merle follows me, instigating a fight, and now Daryl dragging me off to the woods and wanting to interrogate me. I roll my eyes at him and pull my arm away, surprised that he actually let me. I shift as he glares at me and manage to hold back a wince of pain like a boss.

_So how are we playing this?_

We’re not. Merle will no doubt tell Daryl just because they’re Dixons and he’s an asshole that takes pleasure in putting Daryl down. Baiting him with the condoms WAS a bad idea. Once Daryl finds out I’m not sure how he’ll react.

_…Well okay maybe it **was** a bad idea._

No shit Sherlock.

“’ey!” Daryl growls as he snaps his fingers in my face.

I blink hard and look at him with furrowed brows.

“Start talkin’.” Daryl orders as he glares at me.

“What do you want me to say Daryl? I’m sorry I got into a fight with your brother?” I ask with a raised brow. “I’m not. Merle deserved it.”

Daryl spits on the ground and walks back a couple of steps, his hands clenching. I watch him with narrow eyes and wait…that’s the thing about the hunter he took his time with his words.

“How bad he hurt you?”

I shrug, hoping it looks casual. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Daryl spits out a harsh curse, his southern twang heavy as he stalks forward and nearly rips off my shirt. I flail my arms around in surprise, a pained whimper escaping my throat at the sudden movement. I can’t see anything besides the brown fabric of my Gaara shirt, Daryl having pulled my shirt up to make sure that my arms were trapped. “Daryl! What the fuck?”

I would have never thought that the quiet hunter was capable of being so bold.

I try to push down my arms, but find that Daryl has stepped in close and is using his arm as a fucking iron bar. His other hand goes straight for the money. His fingers grab my skin and a loud high pitched pained moan breaks free.

_How embarrassing._

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, I feel all the fight leave me. I let my arms hang uselessly, my head leaning forward to rest on his hand that has my shirt fisted tightly in it. Closing my eyes I let out a shaky breath.

“Shit, what tha hell happened out there?” Daryl whispers harshly as he lays the palm of his hand over my throbbing side.

I couldn’t have stopped my pained whine even if I tried. Merle hit me good with that left hook. I almost don’t notice that Daryl’s hand was slowly caressing the pained tender flesh.

_Cat got your tongue?_

Shut up, it’s not like that.

“What needed to happen Daryl…Merle and me…that fight was always going to happen. Not gonna lie though, I don’t ever want to get into fight with him again. The man packs a fucking punch.” I joke lamely. Not surprising that all I hear is the wind going through the leaves and birds faintly chirping.

_Come on keep talking, I want to see just how much of a dumbass you can make yourself out to be._

I feel my face on fire and swear that my soul is withering in mortification.

Daryl’s palm flexes and I let out another pained whimper, hunching in my chest to avoid more pain. Unfortunately the thing about getting punched by Merle is that there is no way to avoid the pain. I breathe in another shaky breath and just surrender in the resulting heavy silence that Daryl lets reign after my little joke. “Merle followed me and we cleaned out a store. I,” now here I hesitate but I pull on my big girl panties and push on, “grabbed some condom boxes. I wanted to see Shane and Lori’s faces when I handed it to them but then Merle decided to make a comment about it. We said some things and then suddenly I’m landing a punch before being body slammed to the ground. It all went downhill from there. I couldn’t stop hitting him…and Merle…well you know he didn’t really hit me.” I hear Daryl’s snort of disbelief. “I’m serious, besides the body slam, the liver punch and the bitch slap Merle didn’t really hit me.”

“You fucking idiot.” Daryl says as his hand traces my pained filled side and slowly turns me around to look at my back. His fingers touched my sore muscles that twitch with pain.

“It needed to happen Daryl.” I repeat as I hold back a hiss.

Finally I feel the hunter’s fingers draw away from my skin and drop his arm, my shirt falling back down to cover my chest. I smooth it down and stare at the ground. For some reason I can’t make eye contact with him, my cheeks still flushing hot.

“You know this has to stay between us. I don’t know what was up with Shane acting all concerned but no one can find out that Merle and I actually fought each other.” I say to him but don’t look at him.

Daryl stays quiet a long time before agreeing, and really what other choice does he have? I give him a nod and follow after him as he walks past me and leads the way back to camp.


	4. Stuck in the Middle with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I glare at the woman, angry at her too for being such a fucking dumbass as to get into a goddamn fist fight with Merle. I know just how hard Merle’s punches are, the fact that she hadn’t been dragged into camp is a fucking miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in the middle with you by Stealers Wheel
> 
> Short chapter. Next one will be longer. Hope you enjoy!

I watched as my knife slid into the raccoon, separating its skin from the meat so that I could cook it. It was a peaceful pastime, something that I fucking needed as I came back from hunting to find both Merle and the Amazon gone. Dale had told me that they had gone on a run with Glenn, the old man’s demeanor uneasy at who was keeping the Asian company. I just gave him a blank look as I moved past him and went to Shane.

“How long they been gone?” I asked curtly, ignoring the side-eyed look that Lori was giving me.

Shane glanced at me before running a hand through his hair. “Been gone since morning.”

It was already afternoon. I gave a nod of thanks, and left them to it.

So here I was skinning game when I felt that prickling sensation on my neck. I look up and see the three of them cresting the hill ahead. I keep my eyes on them, hands pausing, as they come closer to camp and that’s when I notice it.

Merle looking like he went a couple rounds, holding a rag to his bloody mouth, and Sanchez’ face swollen and red.

Fuckin’ Merle.

I’m shocked, how could Merle do something so fucking stupid? My brother was a lot of things but one thing that he wasn’t was a woman beater. Not like **him**. I drop my knife, grab a tarp and cover my game. Wiping my bloody hands on my pants I stalk forward to where the rest of the group are already fucking swarming the runners like fucking bees. I push that fat fucker Ed out the way and hear him curse at me. I ain’t in the mood to deal with his punk ass. The fucker gets the message loud and clear as I stare him down before pushing through to the front, hearing Glenn try and calm down an angry looking Shane.

“Whoa! Hey calm down.” Glenn says in a hurry.

I ignore Glenn, who’s waving his hands around like a damn fool, and look at the woman who’s standing with a rigid back next to my beaten down brother.

“The fuck happened out there?” Shane asks as he focuses on Sanchez.

“We separated at the start, to get more supplies.” Glenn begins to explain. “Merle went with Augustina and when I finished I waited for them to come back to the meet-up spot after the one hour limit. They were running late and I was about to go find them when they turned up. They fought with some survivors that had tried to steal their stuff.” Glenn ends with a nervous look.

“That right?” Shane asks with disbelief to the woman.

I watch as Sanchez gives him a terse nod. “I’m not going to let no one steal our supplies. Merle took most of the hits, this” her voice only rasped now, no longer sounding like rocks as she pointed to her puffy cheek, “was a lucky shot. I made sure that the guy went down after that.” My eyes shoot down and take in the state of her knuckles, which were an angry red and some of the skin had been rubbed raw.

Fuckin’ Merle.

“Merle did all the fighting and I killed any walkers-.” Sanchez cuts off abruptly when Shane reaches out to touch her cheek.

I watch as Shane’s fingers touch her face, his eyes looking black, ignoring the narrowed look that his woman’s sending him from beside him. I feel my throat tighten and my fists clench. The fuck was he doing touching her? I glance at Sanchez, and see her confusion before she backs away from Shane. I glare at the pig cop, watching as he drops his hand and gives Sanchez a sharp nod.

“Hand the bags over and we’ll sort through it. You three go get some food and relax.” Shane orders before taking the heavy bag from Glenn with ease, Andrea coming forward with Dale to grab Merle’s. Amy, the little blonde thing, saddles up next to my brother and tells Merle to follow her to the RV so that she could treat his wounds. Andrea’s mouth thins with irritation and I want to stop whatever Merle’s fixin’ to do, but I got something else I need to do first. I step forward, ignoring everyone as I clamp down on the Amazon’s wrist and near damn drag her ass away from camp.

I lead us deep into the woods, deep enough that only Merle would be able to find us easily. Figuring we was far enough from the group I turn to the woman, that anger that was building up since that fucker Shane had his hand on her boiling. “Those idiots might believe that cock and bull story but I sure as hell don’t.” I manage to say, keeping careful not to squeeze her wrist too hard. The woman rolls her eyes at me, as if I was the one causin’ problems, and tugs her arm away from my hold. I’ve got half a mind to not let her go, but I allow her space and watch as her face winces as she steps back.

I fuckin’ knew it.

I knew that she was hurtin’ more than she was lettin’ on. Fuckin’ Merle.

I glare at the woman, angry at her too for being such a fucking dumbass as to get into a goddamn fist fight with Merle. I know just how hard Merle’s punches are, the fact that she hadn’t been dragged into camp is a fucking miracle. I’m about to tell her that when I notice that same faraway look in her eyes that I know means that she’s off in her head. I manage to not start yelling at her and just snap my fingers, bringing her back to the now.

“’ey!” The Amazonian blinks hard and looks at me in question. I swear this woman’s going to drive me insane. “Start talkin’.”

“What do you want me to say Daryl? I’m sorry I got into a fight with your brother?” She said sarcastically as she held herself stiff, her eyes giving me the impression that she thought I was a dumb fuck if I was expecting an apology. “I’m not. Merle deserved it.”

I spit on the ground and walk back a couple of steps, my hands clenching. I got a brother who is probably slipping a hand in Amy, his face looking like shit, and I got Sanchez giving me fucking lip as she looks too much like Carol for comfort. Her body’s stiff, holding back pain, and her face’s starting to bruise again after finally healing from the last fight she got into before she joined the group. How was it that I’m the sane one from the three of us? I exhale a hard breath as I stare the woman down, seeing those chocolate brown eyes narrow at me…as if she was waiting for me to attack.

Fuckin’ Merle.

“How bad he hurt you?” I manage to say through gritted teeth.

She shrugs it off, as if being beat on was an everyday thing. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Fuckin’ bitch.” I snarl at hearing her indifferent answer. Whatever control I had is gone at that. I cross the distance in a couple of steps and have that stupid shirt of hers up round her face. I don’t want to look at what my brother had done to her face, making her look like fucking Carol, like my mother. I tense my arm, holding the Amazonian’s strong arms in place as they try to push me off but I wasn’t going to be moved. I needed to know just how far Merle went, I needed to know just how much this stupid woman was hurt. I wait and clench my eyes shut when the pained whimper comes from her. I’m responsible for her dumb ass, and here she is hurtin’ because of my brother.

“Daryl! What the fuck?” She growls as she tries to free herself, pain coloring her words.

I feel her try to push me off in a burst of strength, but I can already feel her strength fading. I knew that she would stop soon enough. Flexing my arm, holding her in place, I open my eyes to see the damage.

A shocking bright pink sports bar got me squinting before I realize that her chest’s inches away from my face. Furrowing my brows I look further down, ignoring her tits, and see what I was looking for. Her entire left side’s a dull pink. I hold back a curse as my hand goes to touch the rapidly bruising area. I wasn’t expecting the loud high pitched pained moan that seemed to be ripped out form her chest. I can’t help but feel my cheeks start to burn, blushing like a damn teenager.

I curse softly and breathe a sigh of relief as Sanchez finally relaxes. Her body was hard with muscle, no doubt from her living rough for months on the run from the geeks, but she has this cute little pudgy stomach that’s evidence of the kind of life she had before. Enough food to make a woman of her height gain a small gut means that she had money.

Wait…cute? The fuck’s wrong with me? Ain’t nothing cute about a towering woman wielding a goddamn battle-axe.

I feel her rest her head on my hand, the one holding her shirt up, and feel her breath through the fabric as she exhales. “Shit, what tha hell happened out there?” I whisper angrily as I rest my palm over her damaged side. I couldn’t damn well stop myself from touching her, I was no better than fucking Shane. I hear her pained whine and feel my stomach clench.

Goddamn fuckin’ Merle, always fucking up everything.

“What needed to happen Daryl…Merle and me…that fight was always going to happen. Not gonna lie though, I don’t ever want to get into fight with him again. The man packs a fucking punch.” She joked.

Of course the woman was trying to brush it off, of course she was. She was more stubborn than a goddamn mule, fucking Christ. My hand clenches unconsciously with anger and she lets out another pained whimper, hunching in her chest to avoid more pain.

Goddamn it all.

“Merle followed me and we cleaned out a store. I,” Sanchez trails off, hesitating to continue, “grabbed some condom boxes. I wanted to see Shane and Lori’s faces when I handed it to them but then Merle decided to make a comment about it. We said some things and then suddenly I’m landing a punch before being body slammed to the ground. It all went downhill from there. I couldn’t stop hitting him…and Merle…well you know he didn’t really hit me.” Sanchez ends lamely.

My ass they fought over condoms. Knowing Merle I know exactly what he said to her, fucking cock thinking son of a bitch. I snort heavily with disbelief at her saying how Merle didn’t really hit her. I had eyes dammit, I seen what he done to her.

“I’m serious, besides the body slam, the liver punch and the bitch slap Merle didn’t really hit me.” She says again, trying to convince me and sounding so earnest.

“You fucking idiot.” I can’t help but say lowly as my hand fucking acted on its own and was goddamn caressing her bruised side. I might as well just look at all of her since I was acting like a fucking pansy.

I slowly turned her to get a look at her back. Some of her skin was rubbed raw from that body slam she was talkin’ ‘bout. I touch her back, watching intently as her muscles twitched with pain. I brought her in to watch my back, to be fuckin’ safe and here she was bruised from a brawl with my own fucking brother.

“It needed to happen Daryl.” She said softly, as if comforting me.

Fucking shit, this was all wrong. I let her go, watching her pull down her shirt and cover up the bruises. I watch her silently, seeing how she looked towards the ground in effort to avoid my gaze.

Still looking away from me, arms hanging limp at her sides and feet shuffling a bit, she says, “You know this has to stay between us. I don’t know what was up with Shane acting all concerned but no one can find out that Merle and I actually fought each other.”

“Yeah.” I say after a beat of silence.

Without saying anything to her I start back to camp, not wanting to be alone with her anymore, and hear her following me. With every step I take, bringing us closer to the camp, I feel my anger build up again. It was settling in at the pit of my stomach like a damn stone and I was choking on the frustration of it.

Walking into the clearing I see the woman go directly to her tent, zipping it close after her and feel relieved. I don’t think I could stand looking at her right now, with her bruised face and knowing that her skin under the shirt is just as bruised. I hear Merle’s laugh and turn to watch him swagger down the RV, Amy blushing like a school girl after him before Andrea walks up to them like a blond haired avenger. Amy rolls her eyes and goes back inside the trailer while Merle lingers, no doubt sprouting some shit that makes Andrea’s hand clench.

That stone in my gut sinks further as I watch my brother look up at me, his grin never faltering but his eyes lighting up with knowledge. I can practically see the gears in my brothers head turn, knowing that we was going to have words about the run today. Words about what he did to Sanchez.

Merle left Andrea talking to herself, ignoring the blonde’s huff of anger, and walked towards me. “Lead the way little brother.” He said with a mocking wave of his hand.

Going back into the woods, noticing that almost everyone was with Shane sorting through the supplies, I keep my mouth shut and grind my teeth as I let the anger flow into my veins. I walk deeper into the woods, the trees providing us cover from anyone trying to follow us, before stopping abruptly. I stay there for a moment and just listen to the quiet before the storm breaks.

“We gon get this done or not Darylina?” Merle drawls out.

I don’t even know that I had moved before my fist lands hard on Merle’s face. I don’t know what the fuck I was saying, just that I was cursing like a demon and not stopping my blows. Merle lets me wail on him for a good couple of minutes, knowing that he fucking deserved it for laying one fucking finger on Sanchez, before he tackles me to the ground.

“You fuckin’ dumb fuck! How could you touch her? You stupid fuck.” I yell as I twist my body before Merle could grab me in a hold. I kick him in his side, relishing at the sound of him in pain, but I’m too slow in getting away. Merle gets his hands on me and pushes me down, pulling my arms back and pressing down his heavy weight on me to stop me from moving.

“Alright baby brother that’s enough. Christ you and that girl of yours are like peas in a pod wanting to hurt Ol’ Merle.” Merle wheezes out before he spits close to my head.

I see his blood infused spit and snarl, “Don’t talk shit Merle. You hit her, the fuck you was thinkin’? Acting just like the old man.” I say wanting to hurt him.

Merle pushes down painfully making it hard to breathe as he screams at me, “I ain’t him!”

“You hit her!” I shout back.

“Dammit Daryl!” Merle shouts and that gets me to stop. Merle rarely calls me by my name. “That girl of yours ain’t like mama, shit she ain’t like any of the bitches in camp. She’s strong, damn near took all my strength to fight her off, and we needed to settle things. I needed to know that she wasn’t playin’ you like a damn fool baby brother. Ain’t no one gon’ love you but me baby brother and you’re so fuckin’ soft that you let just about everyone in, I had to make sure.” Merle says as he eases off me and pulls me up.

I spit by my feet and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I ain’t stupid Merle,” I tell him before giving him a glare, “and she ain’t my girl.”

Merle cackles loud, his head hanging back with the force of his laughter, before looking at me with amused eyes, “Oh little brother who are you trying to fool?”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen y'all if you don't like this story then please just don't read it. If you leave a flaming comment Imma delete it without even stopping to blink. 
> 
> If you do like it, then heeeey girl heeyyyy- or heeeey boy heeeeey. Leave ya girl some kudos and a comment or two if ya want.


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